GIFT  or 

MICHAEL  REESE 


THE    COMEDY   OF  HUMAN  LIFE 
By   H.  DE   BALZAC 


SCENES    FROM    COUNTRY    LIFE 


SONS  OF  THE   SOIL 

(LES    PAYSANS) 


BALZAC'S     NOVELS. 

Translated  by  Miss  K.  P.  Wormeley. 


Already  Published' 
I  PERE     GORIOT. 

DUCHESSE     DE     LANGEAIS. 

RISE  AND  PALL  OF  CESAR  BIROTTEAU. 
I  EUGENIE     GRANDET. 

COUSIN     PONS. 

THE     COUNTRY     DOCTOR. 

THE     TWO     BROTHERS. 

THE    ALKAHEST. 

MODESTE    MIGNON. 
\  THE  MAGIC   SKIN  (Peau  de  Chagrin). 

COUSIN     BETTE. 

LOUIS     LAMBERT. 

BUREAUCRACY  (Les  Employes). 

SERAPHITA. 

SONS    OP    THE    SOIL. 

FAME    AND    SORROW. 

THE   LILY   OP   THE    VALLEY. 

URSULA. 

AN   HISTORICAL   MYSTERY. 


ROBERTS    BROTHERS,    Publishers, 
BOSTON. 


HONORE    DE    BALZAC 

TRANSLATED     BY 

KATHARINE    PRESCOTT    WORMELEY 


SONS  OF  THE  SOIL 


'W'^      Of  THE  '^ 


ROBERTS     BROTHERS 

3     SOMERSET     STREET 

BOSTON 

1 891 


Copyright,  1890, 
By  Roberts  Brothers. 


All  rights  reserved. 


■%-?. 


BSnibrrsitn  l^'rcss: 
John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridgk. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

To  Monsieur  P.  S.  B.  Gavault vii 

FIRST  PART. 

CHAPTER 

I,   The  Chateau     . 1 

11.   A  Bucolic  Over^qpked  by  Virgil      ....  22 

III.  The  Tavern 40 

IV.  Another  Idyl 62 

V.  Enemies  Face  to  Face 82 

VI.   A  Tale  of  Thieves 110 

VII.   Certain  Lost  Social  Species 129 

VIII.   The  Great  Revolutions  of  a  Little  Valley  .  147 

IX.   Concerning  the  Mediocracy 178 

X.   The  Sadness  of  a  Happy  Woman 199 

XI.  The  Oaristys,  Eighteenth  Eclogue  of   The- 

ocritus; Little  Admired  on  the  Police 

Calendar 219 

XII.  Showeth    how  the   Tavern  is  the   People's 

Parliament 210 

XIII.   A  Type  of  the  Country  Usurer 262 


^^  Contents, 


SECOND   PART. 

CHAPTER  PAOB 

1.  The  Leading  Society  of  Soulanges   ....  287 

II.  The  Conspirators  in  the  Queen's  Salon    .    .  314 

III.  The  Cafe  de  la  Paix 334 

IV.  The  Triumvirate  of  Yille-Aux-Fayes     .     .     .  348 
V.   Victory  Without  a  Fight 36.5 

Vi.  The  Forest  and  the  Harvest 375 

VII.   The  Greyhound 387 

VIII.   Rural  Virtue 400 

IX.   The  Catastrophe 405 

X.   The  Triumph  of  the  Vanquished 412 


TO  MONSIEUR  P.  S.  B.  GAVAULT. 


Jean-Jacques  Rousseau  wrote  these  words  at  the 
beginning  of  his  Nouvelle  Heloise :  ''I  have  seen 
the  morals  of  my  time  and  I  publish  these  letters." 
May  I  not  say  to  you,  in  imitation  of  that  great  writer, 
"  I  have  studied  the  march  of  my  epoch  and  I  publish 
this  work"? 

The  object  of  this  particular  study  —  startling  in  its 
truth  so  long  as  society  makes  philanthropy  a  principle 
instead  of  regarding  it  as  an  accident  —  is  to  bring  to 
sight  the  leading  characters  of  a  class  too  long  un- 
heeded by  the  pens  of  writers  who  seek  novelty  as  their 
chief  object.  Perhaps  this  forgetfulness  is  onh-  pru- 
dence in  these  days  when  the  people  are  heirs  of  all 
the  S3'cophants  of  royalt}'.  We  make  criminals  poetic, 
we  commiserate  the  hangman,  we  have  all  but  deified 
the  proletary.  Sects  have  risen,  and  cried  b}'  every  pen, 
*'  Arise,  working-men  !  "  just  as  formerl}^  they  cried, 
''  Arise  !  "  to  the  tiers  Hat.  None  of  these  Erostrates, 
however,  have  dared  to  face  the  country  solitudes  and 
study  the  unceasing  conspiracy  of  those  whom  we  term 


viii  To  Monsieur  P,  S.  B.  Gavault. 

weak  against  those  others  who  fancy  themselves  strong, 
—  that  of  the  peasant  against  the  proprietor.  It  is 
necessar}'  to  enlighten  not  only  the  legislator  of  to-day 
but  him  of  to-morrow.  In  the  midst  of  the  present 
democratic  ferment,  into  which  so  many  of  our  writers 
blindly  rush,  it  becomes  an  urgent  duty  to  exhibit  the 
peasant  who  renders  Law  inapplicable,  and  who  has 
made  the  ownership  of  land  to  be  a  thing  that  is,  and 
that  is  not. 

You  are  now  to  behold  that  indefatigable  mole,  that 
rodent  which  undermines  and  disintegrates  the  soil, 
parcels  it  out  and  divides  an  acre  into  a  hundred  frag- 
ments, —  ever  spurred  on  to  his  banquet  b}^  the  lower 
middle  classes  who  make  him  at  once  their  auxiliary 
and  their  prey.  This  essentially  unsocial  element, 
created  by  the  Revolution,  will  some  da}^  absorb  the 
middle  classes,  just  as  the  middle  classes  have  destroj'ed 
the  nobility.  Lifted  above  the  law  b}^  its  own  insignifi- 
cance, this  Robespierre,  with  one  head  and  twenty  mil- 
lion arms,  is  at  work  perpetuall}^ ;  crouching  in  country 
districts,  intrenched  in  municipal  councils,  under  arms 
in  the  national  guard  of  every  canton  in  France,  —  one 
result  of  the  year  1830,  which  failed  to  remember  that 
Napoleon  preferred  the  chances  of  defeat  to  the  danger 
of  arming  the  masses. 

If  during  the  last  eight  years  I  have  again  and  again 
given  up  the  writing  of  this  book  (the  most  important 
of  those  I  have  undertaken  to  write),  and  as  often  re- 


To  Monsieur  P,  S.  B.  Gavault.  ix 

turned  to  it,  it  was,  as  3'ou  and  other  friends  can  well 
imagine,  because  my  courage  shrank  from  the  msLuy 
difficulties,  the  man}^  essential  details  of  a  drama  so 
doubly  dreadful  and  so  cruelly  blood}^  Among  the 
reasons  which  render  me  now  almost,  it  ma}'  be  thought, 
foolhard}',  I  count  the  desire  to  finish  a  work  long 
designed  to  be  to  you  a  proof  of  my  deep  and  lasting 
gratitude  for  a  friendship  that  has  ever  been  among  my 
greatest  consolations  in  misfortune* 

De  Balzac. 


SONS  OF   THE   SOIL, 


FIRST   PART. 

Whoso  land  hath,  contention  hath, 

I. 

THE  CHATEAU. 


Les  Aigues,  August  6, 
To  Monsieur  Nathan  : 

My  dear  Nathan, — You,  who  provide  the  public 
with  such  delightful  dreams  through  the  magic  of  3'our 
imagination,  are  now  to  follow  me  while  I  make  you 
dream  a  dream  of  truth.  You  shall  then  tell  me  whether 
the  present  century  is  likely  to  bequeath  such  dreams 
to  the  Nathans  and  the  Blondets  of  the  year  1923  ;  3'ou 
shall  estimate  the  distance  at  which  we  now  are  from 
the  days  when  the  Florines  of  the  eighteenth  century 
found,  on  awaking,  a  chateau  like  Les  Aigues  in  the 
terms  of  their  bargain. 

My  dear  fellow,  if  3'ou  receive  this  letter  in  the  morn- 
ing, let  your  mind  travel,  as  3'ou  lie  in  bed,  fift)^  leagues 
or  thereabouts  from  Paris,  along  the  great  mail  road 
which  leads  to  the  confines  of  Burgundy,  and  behold 
two  small  lodges  built  of  red  brick,  joined,  or  separ- 
ated, by  a  rail  painted  green.  It  was  there  that  the 
diligence  deposited  your  friend  and  correspondent 

1 


2  Sons  of  the  Soil, 

On  either  side  of  this  double  pavilion  grows  a  quick- 
set hedge,  from  which  the  brambles  straggle  like  stray 
locks  of  hair.  Here  and  there  a  tree  shoots  boldly  up  ; 
flowers  bloom  on  the  slopes  of  the  wayside  ditch,  bath- 
ing fbeir  fee;fc  in  its  green  and  sluggish  water.  The 
hedge  at  both  ends  meets  and  joins  two  strips  of  wood- 
land, and  the  double  meadow  thus  inclosed  is  doubtless 
the  result  of  a  clearing. 

These  dusty  and  deserted  lodges  give  entrance  to 
a  magnificent  avenue  of  centennial  elms,  whose  um- 
brageous heads  lean  toward  each  other  and  form  a 
long  and  most  majestic  arbor.  The  grass  grows  in 
this  avenue,  and  only  a  few  wheel-tracks  can  be  seen 
along  its  double  width  of  waj^  The  great  age  of 
the  trees,  the  breadth  of  the  avenue,  the  venerable 
construction  of  the  lodges,  the  brown  tints  of  their 
stone  courses,  all  bespeak  an  approach  to  some  half- 
regal  residence. 

Before  reaching  this  enclosure  from  the  height  of 
an  eminence  such  as  we  Frenchmen  rather  conceitedly 
call  a  mountain,  at  the  foot  of  which  lies  the  village 
of  Conches  (the  last  post-house),  I  had  seen  the  long 
valley  of  Aigues,  at  the  farther  end  of  which  the 
mail  road  turns  to  follow  a  straight  line  into  the  little 
sub-prefecture  of  La  Ville-aux-Fayes,  over  which,  as 
you  know,  the  nephew  of  our  friend  des  Lupeaulx 
lords  it.  Tall  forests  lying  on  the  horizon,  along  vast 
slopes  which  skirt  a  river,  command  this  rich  valle}', 
which  is  framed  in  the  far  distance  by  the  mountains  of 
a  lesser  Switzerland,  called  the  Morvan.  These  forests 
belong  to  Les  Aigues,  and  to  the  Marquis  de  Ron- 
querolles  and  the  Comte  de  Soulanges,  whose  castles 
and  parks  and  villages,  seen  in  the  distance  from  these 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  8 

heights,  give  the  scene  a  strong  resemblance  to  the 
imaginary  landscapes  of  Velvet  Breughel. 

If  these  details  do  not  remind  3'ou  of  all  the  castles 
in  the  air  you  have  desired  to  possess  in  France  you 
are  not  worthy  to  receive  the  present  narrative  of  an 
astounded  Parisian.  At  last  I  have  seen  a  landscape 
where  art  is  blended  with  nature  in  such  a  way  that 
neither  of  them  spoils  the  other ;  the  art  is  natural,  and 
the  nature  artistic.  I  have  found  the  oasis  that  you  and 
I  have  dreamed  of  when  reading  novels,  —  nature  luxu- 
riant and  adorned,  rolling  lines  that  are  not  confused, 
something  wild  withal,  unkempt,  mysterious,  not  com- 
mon.    Jump  that  green  railing  and  come  on ! 

When  I  tried  to  look  up  the  avenue,  which  the  sun 
never  penetrates  except  when  it  rises  or  when  it  sets, 
striping  the  road  like  a  zebra  with  its  oblique  rays,  my 
view  was  obstructed  by  an  outline  of  rising  ground ; 
after  that  is  passed,  the  long  avenue  is  obstructed  b}'  a 
copse,  within  which  the  roads  meet  at  a  cross-ways,  in 
the  centre  of  which  stands  a  stone  obelisk,  for  all  the 
world  like  an  eternal  exclamation  mark.  From  the 
crevices  between  the  foundation  stones  of  this  erection, 
which  is  topped  by  a  spiked  ball  (what  an  idea !),  hang 
flowering  plants,  blue  or  yellow  according  to  the  season. 
Les  Aigues  must  certainly  have  been  built  b}^  a  woman, 
or  for  a  woman ;  no  man  would  have  had  such  dainty 
ideas ;  the  architect  no  doubt  had  his  cue. 

Passing  through  the  little  wood  placed  there  as  sen- 
tinel, I  came  upon  a  charming  declivity,  at  the  foot 
of  which  foamed  and  gurgled  a  little  brook,  which  I 
crossed  on  a  culvert  of  mossy  stones,  superb  in  color, 
the  prettiest  of  all  the  mosaics  which  time  manufactures. 
The  avenue  continues  by  the  brookside  up  a  gentle  rise. 


4  Sons  of  the  Soil, 

In  the  distance,  the  first  tableau  is  now  seen,  —  a  mill 
and  its  dam,  a  causeway  and  trees,  linen  laid  out  to 
dr^',  the  thatched  cottage  of  the  miller,  his  fishing-nets, 
and  the  tank  where  the  fish  are  kept,  —  not  to  speak  of 
the  miller's  boy,  who  was  alread}^  watching  me.  No 
matter  where  you  are  in  the  countr^^  however  solitary 
you  may  think  yourself,  30U  are  certain  to  be  the  focus 
of  the  two  eyes  of  a  countr}'  bumpkin  ;  a  laborer  rests 
on  his  hoe,  a  vine-dresser  straightens  his  bent  back,  a 
little  goat-girl,  or  shepherdess,  or  milkmaid  climbs  a 
willow  to  stare  at  3'ou. 

Presently  the  avenue  merges  into  an  alley  of  acacias, 
which  leads  to  an  iron  railing  made  in  the  da^^s  when 
iron-workers  fashioned  those  slender  filagrees  which  are 
not  unlike  the  copies  set  us  by  a  writing-master.  On 
either  side  of  the  railing  is  a  ha-ha,  the  edges  of  which 
bristle  with  angry  spikes,  —  regular  porcupines  in  metal. 
The  railing  is  closed  at  both  ends  by  two  porter's-lodges, 
like  those  of  the  palace  at  Versailles,  and  the  gateway 
is  surmounted  by  colossal  vases.  The  gold  of  the  ara- 
besques is  ruddy,  for  rust  has  added  its  tints,  but  this 
entrance,  called  "  the  gate  of  the  Avenue,"  which 
plainly  shows  the  hand  of  the  Great  Dauphin  (to  whom, 
indeed,  Les  Aigues  owes  it),  seems  to  me  none  the  less 
beautiful  for  that.  At  the  end  of  each  ha-ha  the  walls 
of  the  park,  built  of  rough -hewn  stone,  begin.  These 
stones,  set  in  a  mortar  made  of  reddish  earth,  display 
their  variegated  colors,  the  warm  yellows  of  the  silex, 
the  white  of  the  lime  carbonates,  the  russet  browns  of  the 
sandstone,  in  many  a  fantastic  shape.  As  3^ou  first  enter 
it,  the  park  is  gloomy,  the  walls  are  hidden  by  creeping 
plants  and  by  trees  that  for  fifty  3'ears  have  heard  no 
sound  of  axe.     One  might  think  it  a  virgin  forest,  made 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  5 

primeval  again  through  some  phenomenon  granted 
exchisively  to  forests.  The  trunks  of  the  trees  are 
swathed  with  lichen  which  hangs  from  one  to  another. 
Mistletoe,  with  its  viscid  leaves,  droops  from  every  fork 
of  the  branches  where  moisture  settles.  I  have  found 
gigantic  ivies,  wild  arabesques  which  flourish  only 
at  fifty  leagues  from  Paris,  here  where  land  does  not 
cost  enough  to  make  one  sparing  of  it.  The  landscape 
on  such  free  lines  covers  a  great  deal  of  ground. 
Nothing  is  smoothed  off;  rakes  are  unknown,  ruts 
and  ditches  are  full  of  water,  frogs  are  tranquilly  de- 
livered of  their  tadpoles,  the  woodland  flowers  bloom, 
and  the  heather  is  as  beautiful  as  that  I  have  seen  on 
your  mantle-shelf  in  January  in  the  elegant  beau-pot 
sent  by  Florine.  This  mystery  is  intoxioating,  it  in- 
spires vague  desires.  The  forest  odors,  beloved  of 
souls  that  are  epicures  of  poesy,  who  delight  in  the  tiny 
mosses,  the  noxious  fungi,  the  moist  mould,  the  wil- 
lows, the  balsams,  the  wild  thyme,  the  green  waters  of 
a  pond,  the  golden  star  of  the  yellow  water-lily,  —  the 
breath  of  all  such  vigorous  propagations  came  to  my 
nostrils  and  filled  me  with  a  single  thought ;  was  it 
their  soul  ?  I  seemed  to  see  a  rose-tinted  gown  floating 
along  the  winding  alley. 

The  path  ended  abruptly  in  another  copse,  where 
birches  and  poplars  and  all  the  quivering  trees  palpi- 
tated, —  an  intelligent  family  with  graceful  branches  and 
elegant  bearing,  the  trees  of  a  love  as  free !  It  was 
from  this  point,  my  dear  fellow,  that  I  saw  a  pond  cov- 
ered with  the  w^hite  water-lily  and  other  plants  with 
broad  flat  leaves  and  narrow  slender  ones,  on  which 
lay  a  boat  painted  white  and  black,  as  light  as  a  nut- 
shell and  dainty  as  the  wherry  of  a  Seine  boatman. 


6  Son8  of  the  Soil. 

Beyond  rose  the  chateau,  built  in  1560,  of  fine  red 
brick,  with  stone  courses  and  copings,  and  window- 
frames  in  which  the  sashes  were  of  small  leaded  panes 
(O  Versailles  !).  The  stone  is  hewn  in  diamond  points, 
but  hollowed,  as  in  the  Ducal  Palace  at  Venice  on  the 
fa9ade  toward  the  Bridge  of  Sighs.  There  are  no  reg- 
ular lines  about  the  castle  except  in  the  centre  building, 
from  which  projects  a  stately  portico  with  double  flights 
of  curving  steps,  and  round  balusters  slender  at  their 
base  and  broadening  at  the  middle.  The  main  building 
is  surrounded  by  clock-towers  and  sundr}'  modern  tur- 
rets, with  galleries  and  vases  more  or  less  Greek.  No 
harmony  there,  my  dear  Nathan  !  These  heterogeneous 
erections  are  wrapped,  so  to  speak,  b}^  various  ever- 
green trees, whose  branches  shed  their  brown  needles 
upon  the  roofs,  nourishing  the  lichen  and  giving  tone 
to  the  cracks  and  crevices  where  the  eye  delights  to 
wander.  Here  you  see  the  Italian  pine,  the  stone  pine, 
with  its  red  bark  and  its  majestic  parasol ;  here  a 
cedar  two  hundred  jears  old,  weeping  willows,  a  Nor- 
way spruce,  and  a  beech  which  overtops  them  all ;  and 
there,  in  front  of  the  main  tower,  some  very  singular 
shrubs,  —  a  3'ew  trimmed  in  a  way  that  recalls  some 
long  decayed  garden  of  old  France,  and  magnolias  with 
hortensias  at  their  feet.  In  short,  the  place  is  the 
Invalides  of  the  heroes  of  horticulture,  once  the  fashion 
and  now  forgotten,  like  all  other  heroes. 

A  chimne}',  with  curious  copings,  which  was  sending 
forth  great  volumes  of  smoke,  assured  me  that  this  de- 
lightful scene  was  not  an  opera  setting.  A  kitchen 
reveals  human  beings.  Now  imagine  me,  Blondet, 
who  shiver  as  if  in  the  polar  regions  at  Saint-Cloud, 
in  the  midst  of  this  glowing  Burgundian  climate.     The 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  7 

sun  sends  down  its  warmest  rays,  the  king-fisher 
watches  on  the  shores  of  the  pond,  the  cricket  chirps, 
the  grain-pods  burst,  the  poppy  drops  its  morphia  in 
glutinous  tears,  and  all  are  clearly  defined  on  the  dark- 
blue  ether.  Above  the  ruddy  soil  of  the  terraces 
flames  that  joyous  natural  punch  which  intoxicates  the 
insects  and  the  flowers  and  dazzles  our  e3"es  and  browns 
our  faces.  The  grape  is  beading,  its  tendrils  fall  in  a 
veil  of  threads  whose  delicacy  puts  to  shame  the  lace- 
makers.  Beside  the  house  blue  larkspur,  nasturtium, 
and  sweet-peas  are  blooming.  From  a  distance  orange- 
trees  and  tuberoses  scent  the  air.  After  tbe  poetic  ex- 
halations of  the  woods  (a  gradual  preparation)  came 
the  delectable  pastilles  of  this  botanic  seraglio. 

Standing  on  the  portico,  like  the  queen  of  flowers, 
behold  a  woman  robed  in  white,  with  hair  unpowdered, 
holding  a  parasol  lined  with  white  silk,  but  herself  whiter 
than  the  silk,  whiter  than  the  Hlies  at  her  feet,  whiter 
than  the  starry  jasmine  that  climbed  the  balustrade, 
—  a  woman,  a  Frenchwoman  born  in  Russia,  who  said  as 
I  approached  her,  "  I  had  almost  given  3'ou  up."  She 
had  seen  me  as  I  left  the  copse.  With  what  perfection 
do  all  women,  even  the  most  guileless,  understand  the 
arrangement  of  a  scenic  effect?  The  movements  of 
the  servants,  who  were  preparing  to  serve  breakfast, 
showed  me  that  the  meal  had  been  dela3^ed  until  after 
the  arrival  of  the  diligence.  She  had  not  ventured  to 
come  to  meet  me. 

Is  not  this  our  dream, — the  dream  of  all  lovers  of 
the  beautiful,  under  whatsoever  form  it  comes ;  the 
seraphic  beauty  that  Luini  put  into  his  Marriage  of 
the  Virgin,  that  noble  fresco  at  Sarono ;  the  beauty 
that   Rubens  grasped  in   the   tumult  of  his  **  Battle 


8  Sons  of  the  Soil, 

of  the  Thermodon  ;  "  the  beauty  that  five  centuries  have 
elaborated  in  the  cathedrals  of  Seville  and  Milan  ;  the 
beauty  of  the  Saracens  at  Granada,  the  beauty  of 
Louis  XIV.  at  Versailles,  the  beauty  of  the  Alps, 
and  that  of  this  Limagne  in  which  I  stand? 

Belonging  to  the  estate,  about  which  there  is  nothing 
too  princely,  nor  yet  too  financial,  where  prince  and 
farmer-general  have  both  lived  (which  fact  serves  to  ex- 
plain it),  are  four  thousand  acres  of  woodland,  a  park 
of  some  nine  hundred  acres,  the  mill,  three  leased 
farms,  another  immense  farm  at  Conches,  and  vine- 
yards, —  the  whole  producing  a  revenue  of  about  seventy 
thousand  francs  a  year.  Now  you  know  Les  Aigues, 
m}"  dear  fellow ;  where  I  have  been  expected  for  the 
last  two  weeks,  and  where  I  am  at  this  moment,  in 
the  chintz-lined  chamber  assigned  to  dearest  friends. 

Above  the  park,  toward  Conches,  a  dozen  little 
brooks,  clear,  limpid  streams  coming  from  the  Morvan, 
fall  into  the  pond,  after  adorning  with  their  silvery 
ribbons  the  valWs  of  the  park  and  the  magnificent 
gardens  around  the  chateau.  The  name  of  the  place, 
Les  Aigues,  comes  from  these  charming  streams  of 
water ;  the  estate  was  originally  called  in  the  old  title- 
deeds  "Les  Aigues-Vives "  to  distinguish  it  from 
*' Aigues-Mortes ; "  but  the  word  "Vives"  has  now 
been  dropped.  The  pond  empties  into  the  stream, 
which  follows  the  course  of  the  avenue,  through  a  wide 
and  straight  canal  bordered  on  both  sides  and  along 
its  whole  length  by  weeping  willows.  This  canal,  thus 
arched,  produces  a  dehghtful  eflTect.  Gliding  through 
it,  seated  on  a  thwart  of  the  little  boat,  one  could  fancy 
one's  self  in  the  nave  of  some  great  cathedral,  the  choir 
being  formed  of  the  main  building  of  the  house  seen  at 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  9 

the  end  of  it.  When  the  setting  sun  casts  its  orange 
tones  mingled  with  amber  upon  the  casements  of  the 
chateau,  the  effect  is  that  of  painted  windows.  At  the 
other  end  of  the  canal  we  see  Blang3%  the  county-town, 
containing  about  sixty  houses,  and  the  village  church, 
which  is  nothing  more  than  a  tumbledown  building  with 
a  wooden  clock-tower  which  appears  to  hold  up  a  roof 
of  broken  tiles.  One  comfortable  house  and  the  par- 
sonage are  distinguishable  ;  but  the  township  is  a  large 
one,  —  about  two  hundred  scattered  houses  in  all,  those 
of  the  village  forming  as  it  were  the  capital.  The  roads 
are  lined  with  fruit-trees,  and  numerous  little  gardens 
are  strewn  here  and  there,  —  true  country  gardens  with 
everything  in  them  ;  flowers,  onions,  cabbages  and  grape- 
vines, currants,  and  a  great  deal  of  manure.  The  village 
has  a  primitive  air ;  it  is  rustic,  and  has  that  decorative 
simplicity  which  we  artists  are  forever  seeking.  In  the 
far  distance  is  the  little  town  of  Soulanges  overhanging 
a  vast  sheet  of  water,  like  the  buildings  on  the  lake  of 
Thun. 

When  you  stroll  in  the  park,  which  has  four  gates, 
each  superb  in  style,  you  feel  that  our  mythological 
Arcadias  are  flat  and  stale.  Arcadia  is  in  Burgundy, 
not  in  Greece  ;  Arcadia  is  at  Les  Aigues  and  nowhere 
else.  A  river,  made  by  scores  of  brooklets,  crosses 
the  park  at  its  lower  level  with  a  serpentine  movement ; 
giving  a  dewy  freshness  and  tranquillity  to  the  scene, 
—  an  air  of  solitude,  which  reminds  one  of  a  convent 
of  Carthusians,  and  all  the  more  because,  on  an  arti- 
ficial island  in  the  river,  is  a  hermitage  in  ruins,  the 
interior  elegance  of  which  is  worthy  of  the  luxurious 
financier  who  constructed  it.  Les  Aigues,  my  dear 
Nathan,  once  belonged  to  that  Bouret  who  spent  two 


10  Sons  of  the  Soil, 

millions  to  receive  Louis  XV.  on  a  single  occasion 
under  his  roof.  How  many  ardent  passions,  how  many 
distinguished  minds,  how  many  fortunate  circumstances 
have  contributed  to  make  this  beautiful  place  what  it 
is  !  A  mistress  of  Henri  IV.  rebuilt  the  chateau  where 
it  now  stands.  The  favorite  of  the  Great  Dauphin, 
Mademoiselle  Choin  (to  whom  Les  Aigues  was  given), 
added  a  number  of  farms  to  it.  Bouret  furnished  the 
house  with  all  the  elegancies  of  Parisian  homes  for 
an  Opera  celebrity  ;  and  to  him  Les  Aigues  owes  the 
restoration  of  its  ground  floor  in  the  style  Louis  XV. 

I  have  often  stood  rapt  in  admiration  at  the  beauty  of 
the  dining-room.  The  eye  is  first  attracted  to  the  ceil- 
ing, painted  in  fresco  in  the  Italian  manner,  where  light- 
some arabesques  are  frolicking.  Female  forms,  in  stucco 
ending  in  fohage,  support  at  regular  distances  corbeils 
of  fruit,  from  which  spring  the  garlands  of  the  ceiling. 
Charming  paintings,  the  work  of  unknown  artists,  fill 
the  panels  between  the  female  figures,  representing  the 
luxuries  of  the  table,  —  boar's-heads,  salmon,  rare  shell- 
fish, and  all  edible  things, — which  fantastically  suggest 
men  and  women  and  children,  and  rival  the  whimsical 
imagination  of  the  Cliinese,  —  the  people  who  best 
understand,  to  m}^  thinking  at  least,  the  art  of  deco- 
ration. The  mistress  of  the  house  finds  a  bell-wire  be- 
neath her  feet  to  summon  servants,  who  enter  only  when 
required,  disturbing  no  interviews  and  overhearing  no 
secrets.  The  panels  above  the  doorways  represent 
gaj^  scenes ;  all  the  embrasures,  both  of  doors  and 
windows,  are  in  marble  mosaics.  The  room  is  heated 
from  below.  Every  window  looks  forth  on  some 
delightful  view. 

This  room  communicates  with  a  bath-room  on  one 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  11 

side  and  on  the  other  with  a  boudoir  which  opens  into 
the  salon.  The  bath-room  is  lined  with  Sevres  tiles, 
painted  in  monochrome,  the  floor  is  mosaic,  and  the 
bath  marble.  An  alcove,  hidden  by  a  picture  painted 
on  copper,  which  turns  on  a  pivot,  contains  a  couch  in 
gilt  wood  of  the  truest  Pompadour.  The  ceiling  is 
lapis-lazuli  starred  with  gold.  The  tiles  are  painted 
from  designs  by  Boucher.  Bath,  table  and  love  are 
therefore  closely  united. 

After  the  salon,  which,  I  should  tell  jou,  my  dear 
fellow,  exhibits  the  magnificence  of  the  Louis  XIV". 
manner,  you  enter  a  fine  bilHard-room  unrivalled  so 
far  as  I  know  in  Paris  itself.  The  entrance  to  this 
suite  of  ground-floor  apartments  is  through  a  semi- 
circular antechamber,  at  the  lower  end  of  which  is  a 
fairy-like  staircase,  lighted  from  above,  which  leads 
to  other  parts  of  the  house,  all  built  at  various  epochs 
—  and  to  think  that  they  chopped  oflT  the  heads  of  the 
wealthy  in  1793!  Good  heavens!  wh}'  can't  people 
understand  that  the  marvels  of  art  are  impossible  in 
a  land  where  there  are  no  great  fortunes,  no  secure, 
luxurious  lives?  If  the  Left  insists  on  killing  kings 
why  not  leave  us  a  few  little  princelings  with  money 
in  their  pockets? 

At  the  present  moment  these  accumulated  treasures 
belong  to  a  charming  woman  with  an  artistic  soul,  who  is 
not  content  with  merel}^  restoring  them  magnificentiN', 
but  who  keeps  the  place  up  with  loving  care.  Sham 
philosophers,  studying  themselves  while  they  profess  to 
be  studying  humanity,  call  these  glorious  things  ex- 
travagance. The}"  grovel  before  cotton  prints  and  the 
tasteless  designs  of  modern  industr3%  as  if  we  were 
greater   and   happier   in  these   days  than   in  those  of 


12  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

Henri  TV.,  Louis  XIV.,  and  Louis  XVI.,  monarchs 
who  have  all  left  the  stamp  of  their  reigns  upon  Les 
Aigues.  What  palace,  what  roysii  castle,  what'  man- 
sions, what  noble  works  of  art,  what  gold  brocaded 
stuffs  are  sacred  now?  The  petticoats  of  our  grand- 
mothers go  to  cover  the  chairs  in  these  degenerate 
days.  Selfish  and  thieving  interlopers  that  we  are, 
we  pull  down  everything  and  plant  cabbages  where 
marvels  once  were  rife.  Onlj^  j^esterday  the  plough 
levelled  Persan,  that  magnificent  domain  which  gave 
a  title  to  one  of  the  most  opulent  families  of  the  old 
parliament ;  hammers  have  demolished  Montmorency, 
which  cost  an  Italian  follower  of  Napoleon  unheard  of 
sums;  Val,  the  creation  of  Regnault  de  Saint-Jean 
d'Angely,  Cassan,  built  by  a  mistress  of  the  Prince  de 
Conti ;  in  all,  four  royal  houses  have  disappeared  in  the 
valley  of  the  Oise  alone.  We  are  getting  a  Roman 
campagna  around  Paris  in  advance  of  the  days  when 
a  tempest  shall  blow  from  the  north  and  overturn 
our  plaster  palaces  and  our  pasteboard  decorations. 

Now  see,  my  dear  fellow,  to  what  the  habit  of  bom- 
hasticising  in  newspapers  brings  3-ou  to.  Here  am  I 
writing  a  downright  article.  Does  the  mind  have  its 
ruts,  like  a  road  ?  I  stop  ;  for  I  rob  the  mail,  and  I  rob 
ni3'self,  and  j^ou  may  be  yawning  —  to  be  continued 
in  our  next;  I  hear  the  second  bell,  which  summons 
me  to  one  of  those  abundant  breakfasts  the  fashion  of 
which  has  long  passed  away,  in  the  dining-rooms  of 
Paris,  be  it  understood. 

Here's  the  history  of  my  Arcadia.  In  1815,  there 
died  at  Les  Aigues  one  of  the  famous  wantons  of  the 
last  century,  —  a  singer,  forgotten  of  the  guillotine  and 
the    nobility,   after    preying    upon    exchequers,    upon 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  13 

literature,  upon  aristocracy,  and  all  but  reaching  the 
scaffold ;  forgotten,  like  so  many  fascinating  old  women 
who  expiate  their  golden  youth  in  countrj'  soHtudes, 
and  replace  their  lost  loves  by  another,  —  man  by 
Nature.  Such  women  live  with  the  flowers,  with  the 
woodland  scents,  with  the  sky,  with  the  sunshine,  with 
all  that  sings  and  skips  and  shines  and  sprouts,  —  the 
birds,  the  squirrels,  the  flowers,  the  grass ;  the}^  know 
nothing  about  these  things,  they  cannot  explain  them, 
but  they  love  them  ;  they  love  them  so  well  that  they 
forget  dukes,  marshals,  rivalries,  financiers,  follies, 
luxuries,  their  paste  jewels  and  their  real  diamonds, 
their  heeled  slippers  and  their  rouge,  —  all,  for  the 
sweetness  of  country'  life. 

I  have  gathered,  my  dear  fellow,  much  precious  in- 
formation about  the  old  age  of  Mademoiselle  Laguerre  ; 
for,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  the  after  life  of  such  women 
as  Florine,  Mariette,  Suzanne  de  Val  Noble,  and  Tullia 
has  made  me,  every  now  and  then,  extremely  inquisi- 
tive, as  though  I  were  a  child  inquiring  what  had 
become  of  the  old  moons. 

In  1790  Mademoiselle  Laguerre,  alarmed  at  the 
turn  of  public  affairs,  came  to  settle  at  Les  Aigues, 
bought  and  given  to  her  by  Bouret,  who  passed  several 
summers  with  her  at  the  chateau.  Terrified  at  the  fate 
of  Madame  du  Barry,  she  buried  her  diamonds.  At 
that  time  she  was  onh^  fifty-three  years  of  age,  and 
according  to  her  lady's-maid,  afterwards  married  to  a 
gendarme  named  Soudry,  "  Madame  was  more  beauti- 
ful than  ever."  My  dear  Nathan,  Nature  has  no  doubt 
her  private  reasons  for  treating  women  Of  this  sort 
like  spoiled  children  ;  excesses,  instead  of  killing  them, 
fatten  them,  preserve  them,  renew  their  youth.     Under 


14  Sons  of  the  Sail. 

a  lymphatic  appearance  they  have  nen^es  which  main- 
tain their  marvellous  ph3'sique ;  the}-  actuall}^  preserve 
their  beauty  for  reasons  which  would  make  a  virtuous 
woman  haggard.  No,  upon  my  word,  Nature  is  not 
moral ! 

Mademoiselle  Laguerre  lived  an  irreproachable  life  at 
Les  Aigues,  one  might  even  call  it  a  saintly  one,  after 
her  famous  adventure,  —  you  remember  it?  One  even- 
ing in  a  paroxysm  of  despairing  love,  she  fled  from  the 
opera-house  in  her  stage  dress,  rushed  into  the  country, 
and  passed  the  night  weeping  by  the  wayside.  (Ah ! 
how  they  have  calumniated  the  love  of  Louis  XV.'s 
time  !)  She  was  so  unused  to  see  the  sunrise,  that  she 
hailed  it  with  one  of  her  finest  songs.  Her  attitude, 
quite  as  much  as  her  tinsel,  drew  the  peasants  about 
her ;  amazed  at  her  gestures,  her  voice,  her  beaut}',  they 
took  her  for  an  angel,  and  dropped  on  their  knees 
around  her.  If  Voltaire  had  not  existed  we  might 
have  thought  it  a  new  miracle.  I  don't  know  if  God 
gave  her  much  credit  for  her  tardy  virtue,  for  love  after 
all  must  be  a  sickening  thing  to  a  woman  as  weary  of  it 
as  a  wanton  of  the  old  Opera.  Mademoiselle  Laguerre 
was  born  in  1740,  and  her  he3^-da3'  was  in  1760,  when 
Monsieur  (I  forget  his  name)  was  called  the  ministre 
de  la  guerre^  on  account  of  his  liaison  with  her.  She 
abandoned  that  name,  which  was  quite  unknown  down 
here,  and  called  herself  Madame  des  Aigues,  as  if  to 
merge  her  identity  in  the  estate,  which  she  delighted 
to  improve  with  a  taste  that  was  profoundly''  artistic. 
When  Bonaparte  became  First  Consul,  she  increased 
her  property  by  the  purchase  of  church  lands,  for  which 
she  used  the  proceeds  of  her  diamonds.  As  an  Opera 
divinity  never  knows  how  to  take  care  of  her  money, 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  15 

she  intrusted  the  management  of  the  estate  to  a  steward, 
occupying  herself  with  her  flowers  and  fruits  and  with 
the  beautifying  of  the  parli. 

After  Mademoiselle  was  dead  and  buried  at  Blangy, 
the  notary  of  Soulanges  —  that  little  town  which  lies 
between  Ville-aux-Fayes  and  Blangy,  the  capital  of  the 
township  —  made  an  elaborate  inventor}',  and  sought 
out  the  heirs  of  the  singer,  who  never  knew  she  had 
any.  Eleven  families  of  poor  laborers  living  near 
Amiens,  and  sleeping  in  cotton  sheets,  awoke  one  fine 
morning  in  golden  ones.  The  property  was  sold  at 
auction.  Les  Aigues  was  bought  b}^  Montcornet,  who 
had  laid  by  enough  during  his  campaigns  in  Spain 
and  Pomerania  to  make  the  purchase,  which  cost  about 
eleven  hundred  thousand  francs,  including  the  furniture. 
The  general,  no  doubt,  felt  the  influence  of  these  luxu- 
rious apartments ;  and  I  was  arguing  with  the  countess 
only  yesterday  that  her  marriage  was  a  direct  result  of 
the  purchase  of  Les  Aigues. 

To  rightly  understand  the  countess,  my  dear  Nathan, 
you  must  know  that  the  general  is  a  violent  man,  red 
as  fire,  five  feet  nine  inches  tall,  round  as  a  tower,  with 
a  thick  neck  and  the  shoulders  of  a  blacksmith,  which 
must  have  amply  filled  his  cuirass.  Montcornet  com- 
manded the  cuirassiers  at  the  battle  of  Essling  (called 
by  the  Austrians  Gross- Aspern),  and  came  near  perish- 
ing when  that  noble  corps  was  driven  back  on  the  Dan- 
ube. He  managed  to  cross  the  river  astride  of  a  log  of 
wood.  The  cuirassiers,  finding  the  bridge  down,  took 
the  glorious  resolution,  at  Montcornet's  command,  to 
turn  and  resist  the  entire  Austrian  army,  which  carried 
off"  on  the  morrow  over  thirty  wagon-loads  of  cuirasses. 
The  Germans  invented  a  name  for  their  enemies  on 


16  Sons  of  the  Soil, 

this  occasion  which  means  "  men  of  iron."  ^     Montcor- 
net  has  the  outer  man  of  a  hero  of  antiquit}'.     His  arms 

1  I  do  not,  on  principle,  like  foot-notes,  and  this  is  the 
first  I  have  ever  allowed  myself.  Its  historical  interest  must 
be  my  excuse ;  it  will  prove,  moreover,  that  descriptions  of 
battles  should  be  something  more  than  the  dry  particulars  of 
technical  writers,  who  for  the  last  three  thousand  years  have 
told  us  about  left  and  right  wings  and  centres  being  broken 
or  driven  in,  but  never  a  word  about  the  soldier  himself, 
his  sufferings,  and  his  heroism.  The  conscientious  care  with 
which  I  prepared  myself  to  write  the  "  Scenes  from  Military 
Life,"  led  me  to  many  a  battle-field  once  wet  with  the  blood  of 
France  and  her  enemies.  Among  them  I  went  to  Wagram. 
When  I  reached  the  shores  of  the  Danube,  opposite  Lobau,  I 
noticed  on  the  bank,  which  is  covered  with  turf,  certain  un- 
dulations that  reminded  me  of  the  furrows  in  a  field  of  lucern. 
I  asked  the  reason  of  it,  thinking  I  should  hear  of  some  new 
method  of  agriculture:  *'  Tliere  sleep  the  cavalry  of  the  impe- 
rial guard,"  said  the  peasant  who  served  us  as  a  guide; 
"those  are  their  graves  you  see  there."  The  words  made 
me  shudder.  Prince  Frederic  Schwartzenburg,  who  translated 
them,  added  that  the  man  had  himself  driven  one  of  the 
wagons  laden  with  cuirasses.  By  one  of  the  strange  chances 
of  war  our  guide  had  served  a  breakfast  to  Napoleon  on  the 
morning  of  the  battle  of  Wagram.  Though  poor,  he  had 
kept  the  double  napoleon  which  the  Emperor  gave  him  for 
his  milk  and  his  eggs.  The  curate  of  Gross-Aspern  took  us 
to  the  famous  cemetery  where  French  and  Austrians  strug- 
gled together  knee-deep  in  blood,  with  a  courage  and  obsti- 
nacy glorious  to  each.  There,  while  explaining  that  a  marble 
tablet  (to  v/hich  our  attention  had  been  attracted,  and  on 
which  were  inscribed  the  names  of  the  owner  of  Gross- 
Aspern,  who  had  been  killed  on  the  third  day)  was  the  sole 
compensation  ever  given  to  the  family,  he  said,  in  a  tone  of 
deep  sadness  :  "  It  was  a  time  of  great  misery,  and  of  great 
hopes  ;  but  now  are  the  days  of  forgetfulness."     The  saying 


Sons  of  the  Soil  17 

are  stout  and  vigorous,  his  chest  deep  and  broad ;  his 
head  has  a  leonine  aspect,  his  voice  is  of  those  that 
can  order  a  charge  in  the  thick  of  the  battle ;  but  he 
has  nothing  more  than  the  courage  of  a  daring  man  ;  he 
lacks  mind  and  breadth  of  view.  Like  other  generals  to 
whom  military  common-sense,  the  natural  boldness  of 
those  who  spend  their  lives  in  danger,  and  the  habit  of 
command  gives  an  appearance  of  superiority,  Mont- 
cornet  has  an  imposing  effect  when  you  first  meet  him  ; 
he  seems  a  Titan,  but  he  contains  a  dwarf,  like  the 
pasteboard  giant  who  saluted  Queen  Elizabeth  at  the 
gates  of  Kenilworth.  Choleric  though  kind,  and  full  of 
imperial  hauteur,  he  has  the  caustic  tongue  of  a  soldier, 

seemed  to  me  sublime  in  its  simplicity;  but  when  I  came 
to  reflect  upon  the  matter,  I  felt  there  was  some  justifica- 
tion for  the  apparent  ingratitude  of  the  House  of  Austria. 
Neither  nations  nor  kings  are  wealthy  enough  to  reward  all 
the  devotions  to  which  these  great  struggles  give  rise.  Let 
those  who  serve  a  cause  with  a  secret  expectation  of  recom- 
pense, set  a  price  upon  their  blood  and  become  mercenaries. 
Those  who  wield  either  sword  or  pen  for  their  country's  good 
ought  to  think  of  nothing  but  of  doing  their  best,  as  our 
fathers  used  to  say,  and  expect  nothing,  not  even  glory,  ex- 
cept as  a  happy  accident. 

It  was  in  rushing  to  retake  this  famous  cemetery  for  the 
third  time  that  Massena,  wounded  and  carried  in  the  box  of 
a  cabriolet,  made  this  splendid  harangue  to  his  soldiers: 
"What!  you  rascally  curs,  who  have  only  five  sous  a  day 
while  I  have  forty  thousand,  do  you  let  me  go  ahead  of 
you  ? "  All  the  world  knows  the  order  which  the  Emperor 
sent  to  his  lieutenant  by  M.  de  Sainte-Croix,  who  swam  the 
Danube  three  times  :  "  Die  or  retake  the  village;  it  is  a  ques- 
tion of  saving  the  army ;  the  bridges  are  destroyed." 

The  Author. 
2 


18  Sons  of  the  Soil, 

and  is  quick  at  repartee,  but  quicker  still  with  a  blow. 
He  may  have  been  superb  on  a  battle-lield ;  in  a 
household  he  is  simply  intolerable.  He  knows  no  love 
but  barrack  love, — the  love  which  those  clever  myth- 
makers,  the  ancients,  placed  under  the  patronage  of  Eros, 
son  of  Mars  and  Venus.  Those  delightful  chroniclers 
of  the  old  religions  provided  themselves  with  a  dozen 
different  Loves.  Study  the  fathers  and  the  attributes 
of  these  Loves,  and  you  will  discover  a  complete  social 
nomenclature,  —  and  yet  we  fancy  that  we  originate 
things !  When  the  world  turns  upside  down  like  an 
hour-glass,  when  the  seas  become  continents,  French- 
men will  find  cannons,  steamboats,  newspapers,  and 
maps  wrapped  up  in  seaweed  at  the  bottom  of  what  is 
now  our  ocean. 

Now,  I  must  tell  you  that  the  Comtesse  de  Montcor- 
net  is  a  fragile,  timid,  delicate  little  woman.  What  do 
3'ou  think  of  such  a  marriage  as  that?  To  those  who 
know  society  such  things  are  common  enough ;  a  well- 
assorted  marriage  is  the  exception.  Nevertheless,  I 
have  come  to  see  how  it  is  that  this  slender  little 
creature  handles  her  bobbins  in  a  way  to  lead  this  heavy, 
solid,  stolid  general  precisely  as  he  himself  used  to  lead 
his  cuirassiers. 

If  Montcornet  begins  to  bluster  before  his  Virginie, 
Madame  lays  a  finger  on  her  lips  and  he  is  silent.  He 
smokes  his  pipes  and  his  cigars  in  a  kiosk  fifty  feet 
from  the  chateau,  and  airs  himself  before  he  returns  to 
the  house.  Proud  of  his  subjection,  he  turns  to  her, 
like  a  bear  drunk  on  grapes,  and  says,  when  anything 
is  proposed,  "  If  Madame  approves."  When  he  comes 
to  his  wife's  room,  with  that  heavy  step  which  maizes 
the  tiles  creak  as  though  they  were  boards,  and  she,  not 


tSons  of  the  Soil,  '  19 

wanting  him,  calls  out :  "  Don't  come  in !  "  he  performs 
a  military  volte-face  and  says  humbly:  "You  will  let 
me  know  when  I  can  see  you  ?  "  —  in  the  very  tones  with 
which  he  shouted  to  his  cuirassiers  on  the  banks  of  the 
Danube  :  "  Men,  we  must  die,  and  die  well,  since  there 's 
nothing  else  we  can  do  !  "  I  have  heard  him  say,  speak- 
ing of  his  wife,  ''  Not  only  do  I  love  her,  but  I  venerate 
her."  When  he  flies  into  a  passion  which  defies  all  re- 
straint and  bursts  all  bonds,  the  little  woman  retires 
into  her  own  room  and  leaves  him  to  shout.  But  four 
or  five  hours  later  she  will  say :  "  Don't  get  into  a  pas- 
sion, my  dear,  you  might  break  a  blood-vessel ;  and 
besides,  you  hurt  me."  Then  the  lion  of  Essling  re- 
treats out  of  sight  to  wipe  his  eyes.  Sometimes  he 
comes  into  the  salon  when  she  and  I  are  talking,  and 
if  she  says:  "Don't  disturb  us,  he  is  reading  to  me," 
he  leaves  us  without  a  word. 

It  is  only  strong  men,  choleric  and  powerful,  thunder- 
bolts of  war,  diplomats  with  olympian  heads,  or  men  of 
genius,  who  can  show  this  utter  confidence,  this  gener- 
ous devotion  to  weakness,  this  constant  protection,  this 
love  without  jealousy,  this  easy  good  humor  with  a 
woman.  Good  heavens !  I  place  the  science  of  the 
countess's  management  of  her  husband  as  far  above 
the  peevish,  arid  virtues  as  the  satin  of  a  causeuse  is 
superior  to  the  Utrecht  velvet  of  a  dirty  bourgeois  sofa. 

My  dear  fellow,  I  have  spent  six  days  in  this  delight- 
ful country-house,  and  I  never  tire  of  admiring  the 
beauties  of  the  park,  surrounded  by  forests  where  pretty 
wood-paths  lead  beside  the  brooks.  Nature  and  its  si- 
lence, these  tranquil  pleasures,  this  placid  life  to  which 
she  woos  me, — all  attract.  Ah!  here  is  true  litera- 
ture ;  no  fault  of  style  among  the  meadows.    Happiness 


20  Sons  of  the  Soil 

forgets  all  things  here,  —  even  the  Debats !  It  has 
rained  all  the  morning ;  while  the  countess  slept  and 
Montcornet  tramped  over  his  domain,  I  have  compelled 
myself  to  keep  mj'  rash,  imprudent  promise  to  write  to 
you. 

Until  now,  though  I  was  born  at  Alen^on,  of  an  old 
judge  and  a  prefect,  so  they  ssLy,  and  though  I  know 
something  of  agriculture,  I  supposed  the  tale  of  estates 
bringing  in  four  or  five  thousand  francs  a  month  to  be 
a  fable.  Money,  to  me,  meant  a  couple  of  dreadful 
things,  —  work  and  a  publisher,  journalism  and  politics. 
When  shall  we  poor  fellows  come  upon  a  land  where 
gold  springs  up  with  the  grass  ?  That  is  what  I  desire 
for  you  and  for  me  and  the  rest  of  us  in  the  name 
of  the  theatre,  and  of  the  press,  and  of  book-making ! 
Amen  ! 

Will  Florine  be  jealous  of  the  late  Mademoiselle 
Laguerre?  Our  modern  Bourets  have  no  French  no- 
bles now  to  show  them  how  to  live ;  they  hire  one 
opera-box  among  three  of  them  ;  the}''  subscribe  for 
their  pleasures  ;  the}^  no  longer  cut  down  magnificently 
bound  quartos  to  match  the  octavos  in  their  library ;  in 
fact,  they  scarcely  bu}'  even  stitched  paper  books. 
What  is  to  become  of  us? 

Adieu  ;  continue  to  care  for 

Your  Blondet. 

If  this  letter,  dashed  oflf  by  the  idlest  pen  of  the  cen- 
tury, had  not  by  some  luckj'  chance  been  preserved,  it 
would  have  been  almost  impossible  to  describe  Les 
Aigues  ;  and  without  this  description  the  history  of  the 
horrible  events  that  occurred  there  would  certainlj^  be 
less  interesting. 


tSons  of  the  SoiL  21 

After  that  remark  some  persons  will  expect  to  see 
the  flashing  of  the  cuirass  of  the  former  colonel  of  the 
imperial  guard,  and  the  raging  of  his  anger  as  he  falls 
like  a  waterspout  on  his  little  wife  ;  so  that  the  end  of 
this  present  history  may  be  like  the  end  of  all  modern 
dramas,  —  a  tragedy  of  the  bed-chamber.  Perhaps  the 
fatal  scene  will  take  place  in  that  charming  room  with 
the  blue  monochromes,  where  beautiful  ideal  birds  are 
painted  on  the  ceilings  and  the  shutters,  where  Chinese 
monsters  laugh  with  open  jaws  on  the  mantle-shelf,  and 
dragons,  green  and  gold,  twist  their  tails  in  curious  con- 
volutions around  rich  vases,  and  Japanese  fantasy  em- 
broiders its  designs  of  many  colors ;  where  sofas  and 
reclining-chairs  and  consoles  and  what-nots  invite  to 
that  contemplative  idleness  which  forbids  all  action. 

No ;  the  drama  here  to  be  developed  is  not  one  of 
private  life ;  it  concerns  things  higher,  or  lower.  Ex- 
pect no  scenes  of  passion ;  the  truth  of  this  history  is 
only  too  dramatic.  And  remember,  the  historian  should 
never  forget  that  his  mission  is  to  do  justice  to  all ;  the 
poor  and  the  prosperous  are  equals  before  his  pen ;  to 
him  the  peasant  appears  in  the  grandeur  of  his  misery, 
and  the  rich  in  the  pettiness  of  his  folly.  Moreover, 
the  rich  man  has  passions,  the  peasant  only  wants. 
The  peasant  is  therefore  doubly  poor;  and  if,  politi- 
cally, his  aggressions  must  be  pitilessly  repressed,  to 
the  eyes  of  humanity  and  religion  he  is  sacred. 


22  Sons  of  the  Soil. 


II. 


A  BUCOLIC  OVERLOOKED  BY  VIRGIL. 

When  a  Parisian  drops  into  the  country  he  is  cut  off 
from  all  his  usual  habits,  and  soon  feels  the  dragging 
hours,  no  matter  how  attentive  his  friends  may  be  to 
him.  Therefore,  because  it  is  so  impossible  to  prolong 
ill  a  tete-a-tete  conversations  that  are  soon  exhausted, 
the  master  and  mistress  of  a  countr3'-house  are  apt  to 
say,  calmly,  "  You  will  be  terriblj-  bored  here."  It  is 
true  that  to  understand  the  delights  of  country  life  one 
must  have  something  to  do,  some  interests  in  it ;  one 
must  know  the  nature  of  the  work  to  be  done,  and 
the  alternating  harmon}-  of  toil  and  pleasure,  —  eternal 
symbol  of  human  life. 

When  a  Parisian  has  recovered  his  powers  of  sleep- 
ing, shaken  off  the  fatigues  of  the  journey,  and  accus- 
tomed himself  to  country  habits,  the  hardest  period 
of  the  dsij  (if  he  wears  thin  boots  and  is  neither  a 
sportsman  nor  an  agriculturalist)  is  the  early  morning. 
Between  the  hours  of  waking  and  breakfasting,  the 
women  of  the  family  are  sleeping  or  dressing,  and 
therefore  unapproachable ;  the  master  of  the  house  is 
out  and  about  his  own  affairs ;  a  Parisian  is  therefore 
compelled  to  be  alone  from  eight  to  eleven  o'clock, 
the  hour  chosen  in  all  countr}-  houses  for  breakfast. 
Now,  having  got  what  amusement  he  can  out  of  care- 
fully dressing   himself,   he   has   soon  exhausted   that 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  23 

resource.  Then,  perhaps,  he  has  brought  with  him 
some  work,  which  he  finds  it  impossible  to  do,  and 
which  goes  back  untouched,  after  he  sees  the  difficul- 
ties of  doing  it,  into  his  valise  ;  a  writer  is  then  obliged 
to  wander  about  the  park  and  gape  at  nothing  or  count 
the  big  trees.  The  easier  the  life,  the  more  irksome 
such  occupations  are,  —  unless,  indeed,  one  belongs  to 
the  sect  of  shaking  quakers  or  to  the  honorable  guild 
of  carpenters  or  taxidermists.  If  one  really  had,  like 
the  owners  of  estates,  to  live  in  the  countr}^  it  would 
be  well  to  supply  one's  self  with  a  geological,  mineralog- 
ical,  entomological,  or  botanical  hobby;  but  a  sensible 
man  does  n't  give  himself  a  vice  merely  to  kill  time 
for  a  fortnight.  ,  The  noblest  estate,  and  the  finest 
chateaux  soon  pall  on  those  who  possess  nothing  but 
the  sight  of  them.  The  beauties  of  nature  seem  rather 
squalid  compared  to  the  representation  of  them  at  the 
opera.  Paris,  by  retrospection,  shines  from  all  its 
facets.  Unless  some  particular  interest  attaches  us,  as 
it  did  in  Blondet's  case,  to  scenes  honored  b}'^  the  steps 
and  lighted  by  the  eyes  of  a  certain  person,  one  would 
envy  the  birds  their  wings  and  long  to  get  back  to 
the  endless,  exciting  scenes  of  Paris  and  its  harrowing 
strifes. 

The  long  letter  of  the  j^oung  journalist  must  make 
most  intelligent  minds  suppose  that  he  had  reached, 
morally  and  physically,  that  particular  phase  of  satis- 
fied passions  and  comfortable  happiness  which  cer- 
tain winged  creatures  fed  in  Strasbourg  so  perfectly 
represent  when,  with  their  heads  sunk  behind  their 
protruding  gizzards,  they  neither  see  nor  wish  to  see 
tlie  most  appetizing  food.  So,  when  the  formidable 
letter  was  finished,  the  writer  felt  the  need  of  getting 


24  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

away  from  the  gardens  of  Armida  and  doing  something 
to  enliven  the  deadly  void  of  the  morning  hours ;  for 
the  hours  between  breakfast  and  dinner  belonged  to 
the  mistress  of  the  house,  who  knew  very  well  how  to 
make  them  pass  quickly.  To  keep,  as  Madame  de 
Montcornet  did,  a  man  of  talent  in  the  country  without 
ever  seeing  on  his  face  the  false  smile  of  satietj',  or 
detecting  the  yawn  of  a  weariness  that  cannot  be  con- 
cealed, is  a  great  triumph  for  a  woman.  The  affection 
which  is  equal  to  such  a  test  certainly  ought  to  be 
eternal.  It  is  to  be  wondered  at  that  women  do  not 
oftener  employ  it  to  judge  of  their  lovers ;  a  fool,  an 
egoist,  or  a  petty  nature  could  never  stand  it.  Philip 
the  Second  himself,  the  Alexander  of  dissimulation, 
would  have  told  his  secrets  if  condemned  to  a  month's 
tete-a-tete  in  the  country.  Perhaps  this  is  why  kings 
seek  to  live  in  perpetual  motion,  and  allow  no  one  to 
see  them  more  than  fifteen  minutes  at  a  time. 

Notwithstanding  that  he  had  received  the  delicate 
attentions  of  one  of  the  most  charming  women  in 
Paris,  Emile  Blondet  was  able  to  feel  once  more  the 
long  forgotten  delights  of  a  truant  schoolboy ;  and  on 
the  morning  of  the  day  after  his  letter  was  written  he 
had  himself  called  by  Frangois,  the  head  valet,  who 
was  specially  appointed  to  wait  on  him,  for  the  purpose 
of  exploring  the  valley  of  the  Avonne. 

The  Avonne  is  a  little  river  which,  being  swollen 
above  Conches  by  numerous  rivulets,  some  of  which  rise 
in  Les  Aigues,  falls  at  Ville-aux-Fayes  into  one  of  the 
large  affluents  of  the  Seine.  The  geographical  position 
of  the  Avonne,  navigable  for  over  twelve  miles,  had, 
ever  since  Jean  Rouvet  invented  rafts,  given  full 
money  value  to  the  forests  of  Les  Aigues,  Soulanges, 


Sons  of  the  Sail,  25 

and  RonqueroUes,  standing  on  the  crest  of  the  hills 
between  which  this  charming  river  flows.  The  park 
of  Les  Aigues  covers  the  greater  part  of  the  valley, 
between  the  river  (bordered  on  both  sides  by  the  forest 
called  des  Aigues)  and  the  royal  mail  road,  defined  by  a 
line  of  old  elms  in  the  distance  along  the  slopes  of  the 
Avonne  mountains,  which  are  in  fact  the  foot-hills  of 
that  magnificent  amphitheatre  called  the  Morvan. 

However  vulgar  the  comparison  may  be,  the  park, 
h-ing  thus  at  the  bottom  of  the  vallej^,  is  like  an 
enormous  fish  with  its  head  at  Conches  and  its  tail  in 
the  village  of  Blang}* ;  for  it  widens  in  the  middle  to 
nearl}^  three  hundred  acres,  while  towards  Conches  it 
counts  less  than  fifty,  and  sixty  at  Blang3\  The  posi- 
tion of  this  estate,  between  three  villages,  and  only 
three  miles  from  the  little  town  of  Soulanges,  from 
which  the  descent  is  rapid,  may  perhaps  have  led  to  the 
strife  and  caused  the  excesses  which  are  the  chief  inter- 
est attaching  to  the  place.  If,  when  seen  from  the  mail 
road  or  from  the  uplands  beyond  Ville-aux-Fayes,  the 
paradise  of  Les  Aigues  induces  mere  passing  travellers 
to  commit  the  mortal  sin  of  env}^,  why  should  the  rich 
burghers  of  Soulanges  and  Ville-aux-Fayes  who  had  it 
before  their  eyes  and  admired  it  every  day  of  their 
lives,  have  been  more  virtuous? 

This  last  topographical  detail  was  needed  to  explain 
the  site,  also  the  use  of  the  four  gates  by  which  alone  the 
park  of  Les  Aigues  was  entered  ;  for  it  was  completely 
surrounded  by  walls,  except  where  nature  had  provided 
a  fine  view,  and  at  such  points  sunk  fences  or  ha-has 
had  been  placed.  The  four  gates,  called  the  gate  of 
Conches,  the  gate  of  the  Avonne,  the  gate  of  Blangy, 
and  the  gate  of  the  Avenue,  showed  the  styles  of  the 


26  Suns  of  the   Soil. 

different  periods  at  which  the}'  were  constructed  so  ad- 
mirablj'  that  a  brief  description,  in  the  interest  of  archae- 
ologists, will  presently  be  given,  as  brief  as  the  one 
Blondet  has  ah*eady  written  about  the  gate  of  the 
Avenue. 

After  eight  days  of  strolling  about  with  the  countess, 
the  illustrous  editor  of  the  "  Journal  des  Debats  "  knew 
by  heart  the  Chinese  kiosk,  the  bridges,  the  isles,  the 
hermitage,  the  dairy,  the  ruined  temple,  the  Babylo- 
nian ice-house,  and  all  the  other  delusions  invented  by 
landscape  architects  which  some  nine  hundred  acres  of 
land  can  be  made  to  serve.  He  now  wished  to  find  the 
sources  of  the  Avonne,  which  the  general  and  the 
countess  daily  extolled  in  the  evening,  making  plans  to 
visit  them  which  were  daily  forgotten  the  next  morning. 
Above  Les  Aigues  the  Avonne  really  had  the  appear- 
ance of  an  alpine  torrent.  Sometimes  it  hollowed  a  bed 
among  the  rocks,  sometimes  it  went  underground  ;  on 
this  side  the  brooks  came  down  in  cascades,  there  they 
flowed  like  the  Loire  on  sandy  shallows  where  rafts 
could  not  pass  on  account  of  the  shifting  channels. 
Blondet  took  a  short  cut  through  the  labyrinths  of  the 
park  to  reach  the  gate  of  Conches.  This  gate  demands 
a  few  words,  which  give,  moreover,  certain  historical 
details  about  the  property. 

The  original  founder  of  Les  Aigues  was  a  3'ounger 
son  of  the  Soulanges  family,  enriched  by  marriage, 
whose  chief  ambition  was  to  make  his  elder  brother 
jealous,  —  a  sentiment,  by  the  bye,  to  which  we  owe  the 
fairy-land  of  Isola  Bella  in  the  Lago  Maggiore.  In  the 
middle  ages  the  castle  of  Les  Aigues  stood  on  the  banks 
of  the  Avonne.  Of  this  old  building  nothing  remams 
but  the  gateway-,  which  has  a  porch  like  the  entrance  to 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  27 

a  fortified  town,  flanked  by  two  round  towers  with  con- 
ical roofs.  Above  the  arch  of  the  porch  are  heavy 
stone  courses,  now  draped  with  vegetation,  showing 
three  large  windows  with  cross-bar  sashes.  A  winding 
stairway  in  one  of  the  towers  leads  to  two  chambers, 
and  a  kitchen  occupies  the  other  tower.  The  roof  of 
the  porch,  of  pointed  shape  like  all  old  timber- work,  is 
noticeable  for  two  weathercocks  perched  at  each  end 
of  a  ridge-pole  ornamented  with  fantastic  iron-work. 
Man}'  an  important  place  cannot  boast  of  so  fine  a 
town  hall.  On  the  outside  of  this  gateway,  the  key- 
stone of  the  arch  still  bears  tlie  arms  of  Soulanges,  pre- 
served by  the  hardness  of  the  stone  on  which  the  chisel 
of  the  artist  carved  them,  as  follows  :  Azure,  on  a  pale, 
argent,  three  pilgrim's  staffs  sable;  a  fess  hronchant, 
gules,  charged  with  four  crosses  patee,fitched,  or  ;  with 
the  heraldic  form  of  shield  awarded  to  3'ounger  sons. 
Blondet  deciphered  the  motto,  Je  soule  agir,  —  one  of 
those  puns  that  crusaders  delighted  to  make  upon  their 
names,  and  which  brings  to  mind  a  fine  poUtical  maxim, 
which,  as  we  shall  see  later,  was  unfortunately  forgot- 
ten by  Montcornet.  The  gate,  which  was  opened  for 
Blondet  b}^  a  very  pretty  girl,  was  of  time-worn  wood 
clamped  with  iron.  The  keeper,  wakened  by  the  creak- 
ing of  the  hinges,  put  his  nose  out  of  the  window  and 
showed  himself  in  his  night-shirt. 

''  So  our  keepers  sleep  till  this  time  of  day  !  "  thought 
the  Parisian,  who  fancied  himself  very  knowing  in  rural 
customs. 

After  a  walk  of  about  quarter  of  an  hour,  he  reached 
the  sources  of  the  river  above  Conches,  where  his  rav- 
ished eyes  beheld  one  of  those  landscapes  that  ought  to 
be  described,  like  the  history  of  France,  in  a  thousand 


28  Sons  of  the  Soil, 

volumes  or  in  only  one.     We  must  here  content  our- 
selves with  two  paragraphs. 

A  projecting  rock,  covered  with  dwarf  trees  and 
abraded  at  its  base  by  the  Avonne,  to  which  circum- 
stance it  owes  a  slight  resemblance  to  an  enormous 
turtle  lying  across  the  river,  forms  an  arch  through 
which  the  eye  takes  in  a  little  sheet  of  water,  clear  as  a 
mirror,  where  the  stream  seems  to  sleep  until  it  reaches 
in  the  distance  a  series  of  cascades  failing  among  huge 
rocks,  where  little  weeping  willows  with  elastic  motion 
sway  back  and  forth  to  the  flow  of  waters. 

Beyond  these  cascades  is  the  hillside,  rising  sheer, 
like  a  Rhine  rock  clothed  with  moss  and  heather,  gul- 
lied like  it,  again,  by  sharp  ridges  of  schist  and  mica 
sending  down,  here  and  there,  white  foaming  rivulets 
to  which  a  little  meadow,  always  watered  and  alwaj-s 
green,  serves  as  a  cup ;  farther  on,  bej'ond  the  pictur- 
esque chaos  and  in  contrast  to  this  wild,  solitary  na- 
ture, the  gardens  of  Conches  are  seen,  with  the  village 
roofs  and  the  clock-tower  and  the  outlying  fields. 

There  are  the  two  paragraphs,  but  the  rising  sun,  the 
purity  of  the  air,  the  dewy  sheen,  the  melody  of  woods 
and  waters  —  imagine  them  ! 

"  Almost  as  charming  as  at  the  Opera,"  thought  Blon- 
det,  making  his  way  along  the  banks  of  the  unnavigable 
portion  of  the  Avonne,  whose  caprices  contrast  with  the 
straight  and  deep  and  silent  stream  of  the  lower  river, 
flowing  between  the  tall  trees  of  the  forest  of  Les 
Aigues. 

Blondet  did  not  proceed  far  on  his  morning  walk,  for 
he  was  presently  brought  to  a  stand-still  by  the  sight  of 
a  peasant,  —  one  of  those  who,  in  this  drama,  are  su- 
pernumeraries so  essential  to  its  action   that  it  may 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  29 


actors. 

When  the  clever  journalist  reached  a  group  of  rocks 
where  the  main  stream  is  imprisoned,  as  it  were,  be- 
tween two  portals,  he  saw  a  man  standing  so  mo- 
tionless as  to  excite  his  curiosit}^,  while  the  clothes 
and  general  air  of  this  living  statue  greatly  puzzled 
him. 

The  humble  personage  before  him  was  a  living  pre- 
sentment of  the  old  men  dear  to  Charlet's  pencil ; 
resembling  the  troopers  of  that  Homer  of  soldiery  in  a 
strong  frame  able  to  endure  hardship,  and  his  immor- 
tal skirmishers  in  a  fiery,  crimson,  knotted  face,  show- 
ing small  capacity  for  submission.  A  coarse  felt  hat, 
the  brim  of  which  was  held  to  the  crown  by  stitches, 
protected  a  nearly  bald  head  from  the  weather ;  below 
it  fell  a  quantity  of  white  hair  which  a  painter  would 
gladly  have  paid  four  francs  an  hour  to  copy,  —  a  daz- 
zling mass  of  snow,  worn  like  that  in  all  the  classical 
representations  of  Deity.  It  was  easy  to  guess  from  the 
way  in  which  the  cheeks  sank  in,  continuing  the  lines 
of  the  mouth,  that  the  toothless  old  fellow  was  more 
given  to  the  bottle  than  the  trencher.  His  thin  white 
beard  gave  a  threatening  expression  to  his  profile  by 
the  stiffness  of  its  short  bristles.  The  e3es,  too  small 
for  his  enormous  face,  and  sloping  like  those  of  a  pig, 
betrayed  cunning  and  also  laziness ;  but  at  this  par- 
ticular moment  the}^  were  gleaming  with  the  intent 
look  he  cast  upon  the  river.  The  sole  garments  of 
this  curious  figure  were  an  old  blouse,  former!}'  blue, 
and  trousers  of  the  coarse  burlap  used  in  Paris  to 
wrap  bales.  All  cit}'  people  would  have  shuddered 
at  the  sight  of  his  broken  sabots,  without  even  a  wisp 


30  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

of  straw  to  stop  the  cracks  ;  and  it  is  very  certain  that 
the  blouse  and  the  trousers  had  no  money  vahie  at  all 
except  to  a  paper-maker. 

As  Blondet  examined  this  rural  Diogenes,  he  ad- 
mitted the  possibility  of  a  type  of  peasantry  he  had 
seen  in  old  tapestries,  old  pictures,  old  sculptures,  and 
which,  up  to  this  time,  had  seemed  to  him  imaginary. 
He  resolved  for  the  future  not  to  utterly  condemn  the 
school  of  ugliness,  perceiving  a  possibility  that  in  man 
beauty  ma>'  be  but  the  flattering  exception,  a  chimera 
in  which  the  race  struggles  to  believe. 

"  What  can  be  the  ideas,  the  morals,  the  habits,  of 
such  a  being?  What  is  he  thinking  of?"  thought 
Blondet,  seized  with  curiosity.  "Is  he  my  fellow- 
creature?  We  have  nothing  in  common  but  shape, 
and  even  that !  —  " 

He  noticed  in  the  old  man's  limbs  the  peculiar  ri- 
gidity- of  the  tissues  of  persons  who  live  in  the  open 
air,  accustomed  to  the  inclemencies  of  the  weather 
and  to  the  endurance  of  heat  and  cold,  —  hardened  to 
everything,  in  short,  —  which  makes  their  leathern  skin 
almost  a  hide,  and  their  nerves  an  apparatus  against 
physical  pain  as  powerful  as  that  of  the  Eussians  or 
the  Arabs. 

"Here's  one  of  Cooper's  Red-skins,"  thought  Blon- 
det ;   "  one  need  n't  go  to  America  to  study  savages." 

Though  the  Parisian  was  less  than  ten  paces  off, 
the  old  man  did  not  turn  his  head,  but  kept  looking  at 
the  opposite  bank  with  a  fixit}-  which  the  fakirs  of  India 
give  to  their  vitrified  eyes  and  their  stiffened  joints. 
Compelled  by  the  power  of  a  species  of  magnetism, 
more  contagious  than  people  have  an}'  idea  of,  Blondet 
ended  by  gazing  at  the  water  himself. 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  31 

**  Well,  th}^  good  man,  what  do  3'ou  see  there?" 
he  asked,  after  the  lapse  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 
during  which  time  he  saw  nothing  to  justify  this 
intent  contemplation. 

*'Hush!"  whispered  the  old  man,  with  a  sign  to 
Blondet  not  to  ruffle  the  air  with  his  voice;  '*  You 
will  frighten  it  —  " 

*^What?" 

*'  An  otter,  my  good  gentleman.  If  it  hears  us  it  '11 
go  quick  under  water.  I  'm  certain  it  jumped  there ; 
see !  see !  there,  where  the  water  bubbles !  Ha !  it 
sees  a  fish,  it  is  after  that !  But  my  boy  will  grab 
it  as  it  comes  back.  The  otter,  don't  you  know,  is 
very  rare  ;  it  is  scientific  game,  and  good  eating, 
too.  I  get  ten  francs  for  every  one  I  carrj'  to  Les 
Aigues,  for  the  lady  fasts  Fridays,  and  to-morrow  is 
Friday.  Years  agone  the  deceased  madame  used  to 
pay  me  twenty  francs,  and  gave  me  the  skin  to  boot  1 
Mouche,"  he  called,  in  a  low  voice,  "  watch  it!" 

Blondet  now  perceived  on  the  other  side  of  the 
river  two  bright  eyes,  like  those  of  a  cat,  beneath  a 
tuft  of  alders ;  then  he  saw  the  tanned  forehead  and 
tangled  hair  of  a  boj'  about  ten  3ears  of  age,  who  was 
lying  on  his  stomach  and  making  signs  towards  the 
otter  to  let  his  master  know  he  kept  it  well  in  sight. 
Blondet,  completely  mastered  by  the  eagerness  of  the 
old  man  and  boy,  allowed  tlie  demon  of  the  chase  to  get 
the  better  of  him,  —  that  demon  with  the  double  claws 
of  hope  and  curiosity,  who  carries  3'ou  whithersoever 
he  will. 

'*The  hatmakers  buv' the  skin,"  continued  the  old 
man;  "it's  so  soft,  so  handsome!  They  cover  caps 
with  it." 


32  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

*' Do  you  really  think  so,  my  old  man?"  said 
Blondet,  smiling. 

*'  Well  truly,  my  good  gentleman,  you  ought  to 
know  more  than  I,  though  I  am  seventy  years  old," 
replied  the  old  fellow,  very  humbly  and  respectfully-, 
falling  into  the  attitude  of  a  giver  of  holy  water  ;  "  per- 
haps you  can  tell  me  why  conductors  and  wine-mer- 
chants are  so  fond  of  it?" 

Blondet,  a  master  of  irony,  already  on  his  guard 
from  the  word  scientific,  recollected  the  Marechal  de 
Richelieu  and  began  to  suspect  some  jest  on  the  part 
of  the  old  man ;  but  he  was  reassured  by  his  artless 
attitude  and  the  perfectl}'  stupid  expression  of  his  face. 

"  In  my  .young  days  we  had  lots  of  otters,"  whispered 
the  old  fellow;  "but  they've  hunted  *em  so  that  if 
we  see  the  tail  of  one  in  seven  years  it  is  as  much  as 
ever  we  do.  And  the  sub-prefect  at  Ville-aux-Fayes,  — 
does  n't  monsieur  know  him  ?  though  he  be  a  Parisian, 
he's  a  fine  3"oung  man  like  3'ou,  and  he  loves  curiosities, 
—  so,  as  I  was  saying,  hearing  of  my  talent  for  catch- 
ing otters,  for  I  know  'em  as  3'ou  know  your  alpha- 
bet, he  says  to  me  like  this :  *  Pere  Fourchon,'  sa3's 
he,  *  when  3'OU  find  an  otter  bring  it  to  me,  and  I  '11 
pay  you  well ;  and  if  it 's  spotted  white  on  the  back,' 
says  he,  *I  'II  give  you  thirty  francs.'  That's  just 
what  he  did  sa3-  to  me  as  true  as  I  believe  in  God  the 
Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost.  And  there  's  a  learned 
man  at  Soulanges,  Monsieur  Gourdon,  our  doctor,  who 
is  making,  so  they  tell  me,  a  collection  of  natural 
history  which  has  n't  its  mate  at  Dijon  even  ;  indeed 
he  is  first  among  the  learned  men  in  these  parts,  and 
he  '11  pay  me  a  fine  price,  too ;  he  stuff's  men  and 
beasts.     Now  my  boy  there   stands   me   out  that  that 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  33 

otter  has  got  the  white  spots.  *  If  that 's  so,'  sa3^s 
I  to  him,  '  then  the  good  God  wishes  well  to  us  this 
morning ! '  Ha !  did  n't  you  see  the  water  bubble  ? 
yes,  there  it  is  !  there  it  is  !  Though  it  lives  in  a  kind 
of  a  burrow,  it  sometimes  stays  whole  days  under 
water.  Ha,  there  !  it  heard  j^ou,  m}'  good  gentleman  : 
it 's  on  its  guard  now ;  for  there  's  not  a  more  suspicious 
animal  on  earth ;  it 's  worse  than  a  woman." 

*' So  you  call  women  suspicious,  do  you?"  said 
Blondet. 

"  P'aith,  monsieur,  if  j'ou  come  from  Paris  you  ought 
to  know  about  that  better  than  I.  But  you'd  have 
done  better  for  me  if  you  had  stayed  in  your  bed  and 
slept  all  the  morning ;  don't  you  see  that  wake  there  ? 
that  *s  where  she 's  gone  under.  Get  up,  Mouche  !  the 
otter  heard  monsieur  talking,  and  now  she  's  scary 
enough  to  keep  us  at  her  heels  till  midnight.  Come, 
let 's  be  off !   and  good-bye  to  our  thirty  francs !  " 

Mouche  got  up  reluctantly ;  he  looked  at  the  spot 
where  the  water  bubbled,  pointed  to  it  with  his  finger 
and  seemed  unable  to  give  up  all  hope.  The  child, 
with  curly  hair  and  a  brown  face,  like  the  angels  in  a 
fifteenth-century  picture,  seemed  to  be  in  breeches,  for 
his  trousers  ended  at  the  knee  in  a  ragged  fringe  of 
brambles  and  dead  leaves.  This  necessary  garment  was 
fastened  upon  him  by  cords  of  tarred  oakum  in  guise 
of  braces.  A  shirt  of  the  same  burlap  which  made 
the  old  man's  trousers,  thickened,  however,  by  many 
darns,  open  in  front  showed  a  sun-burnt  little  breast. 
In  short,  the  attire  of  the  being  called  Mouche  was  even 
more  startlingly  simple  than  that  of  Pere  Fourclion. 

**  What  a  good-natured  set  of  people  the}'  are  here," 
thought  Blondet ;   *'  if  a  man  frightened  away  the  game 

3 


34  So7i8  of  the  Soil, 

of  the  people  of  the  suburbs  of  Paris,  how  their  tongues 
would  maul  him  !  " 

As  he  had  never  seen  an  otter,  even  in  a  museum, 
he  was  dehghted  with  this  episode  of  his  earl}-  walk. 
''  Come,"  said  he,  quite  touched  when  the  old  man 
walked  away  without  asking  him  for  a  compensation, 
"you  say  you  are  a  famous  otter  catcher.  If  you  are 
sure  there  is  an  otter  down  there  — " 

From  the  other  side  the  water  Mouche  pointed  his 
finger  to  certain  air-bubbles  coming  up  from  the  bottom 
of  the  Avonne  and  bursting  on  its  surface. 

''  It  has  come  back  !  "  said  Pere  Fourchon  ;  "  don't 
you  see  it  breathe,  the  beggar?  How  do  you  suppose 
they  manage  to  breathe  at  the  bottom  of  the  water? 
Ah,  the  creature's  so  clever  it   laughs  at  science." 

''  Well,"  said  Blondet,  who  supposed  the  last  word 
was  a  jest  of  the  peasantry  in  general  rather  than  of 
this  peasant  in  particular,  "  wait  and  catch  the  otter." 

"And  what  are  we  to  do  about  our  day's  work, 
Mouche  and  I?" 

' '  What  is  your  day  worth  ?  " 

"  For  the  pair  of  us,  m}'  apprentice  and  me?  —  Five 
francs,"  said  the  old  man,  looking  Blondet  in  the  eye 
with  a  hesitation  that  betraj-ed  an  enormous  over- 
charge. 

The  journalist  took  ten  francs  from  his  pocket,sa3^- 
ing,  "  There  's  ten,  and  I  '11  give  3'ou  ten  more  for  the 
otter." 

' '  And  it  won*t  cost  3'ou  dear  if  there 's  white  on  its 
back ;  for  the  sub-prefect  told  me  there  was  n't  one  o' 
them  museums  that  had  the  like ;  but  he  knows  ever}^- 
thing,  our  sub-prefect,  —  no  fool  he !  If  I  liunt  tlio 
otter,  he,  M'sieur  des  Lupeaulx,  hunts  Mademoiselle 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  35 

Gaubertin,  who  has  a  fine  white  dot  on  her  back.  Come 
now,  my  good  gentleman,  if  I  may  make  so  bold,  plunge 
into  the  middle  of  the  Avonne  and  get  to  that  stone 
down  there.  If  we  head  the  otter  off,  it  will  come 
down  stream ;  for  just  see  their  slyness,  the  beggars ! 
they  always  go  above  their  burrow  to  feed,  for,  once 
full  of  fish,  they  know  they  can  easily  drift  down,  the 
sly  things !  Ha !  if  I  'd  been  trained  in  their  school 
I  should  be  living  now  on  an  income  ;  but  I  was  a  long 
time  finding  out  that  j'ou  must  go  up  stream  very  earl3^ 
in  the  morning  if  you  want  to  bag  the  game  before 
others.  Well,  somebody  threw  a  spell  over  me  when 
I  was  born.  However,  we  three  together  ought  to  be 
slyer  than  the  otter." 

y^        "  How  so,  my  old  necromancer?" 

Pl'  **  Wh}^,  bless  3*ou!  we  are  as  stupid  as  the  beasts, 
and  so  we  come  to  understand  the  beasts.  Now,  see, 
this  is  what  we  '11  do.  When  the  otter  wants  to  get 
home  Mouche  and  1  '11  frighten  it  here,  and  you  '11 
frighten  it  over  there  ;  frightened  by  us  and  frightened 
by  3'ou  it  will  jump  on  the  bank,  and  when  it  takes  to 
earth,  it  is  lost !  It  can't  run  ;  it  has  web  feet  for  swim- 
ming. Ho,  ho !  it  will  make  you  laugh,  such  floun- 
dering! you  don't  know  whether  you  are  fishing  or 
hunting !  The  general  up  at  Les  Aigues,  I  have  known 
him  to  stay  here  three  days  running,  he  was  so  bent 
on  getting  an  otter." 

Blondet,  armed  with  a  branch  cut  for  him  by  the  old 
man,  who  requested  him  to  whip  the  water  with  it  when 
he  called  to  him,  planted  himself  in  the  middle  of  the 
river  b}'  jumping  from  stone  to  stone. 

"  There,  that  will  do,  my  good  gentleman." 
Blondet  stood  where  he  was  told  without  remark- 


3(5  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

ing  the  lapse  of  time,  for  every  now  and  then  the  old 
fellow  made  him  a  sign  as  much  as  to  sa}^  that  all  was 
going  well ;  and  besides,  nothing  makes  time  go  so  fast 
as  the  expectation  that  quick  action  is  to  succeed  the 
j^erfect  stillness  of  watching. 

"  Pere  Fourchon,"  whispered  the  boy,  finding  him- 
self alone  with  the  old  man,  "  there  's  really  an  otter !  " 

"  Do  you  see  it?  " 

*'  There,  see  there  !  " 

The  old  fellow  was  dumfounded  at  beholding  under 
water  the  reddish-brown  fur  of  an  actual  otter. 

*'  It's  coming  my  way  !  "  said  the  child. 

''Hit  him  a  sharp  blow  on  the  head  and  jump  into 
the  water  and  hold  him  fast  down,  but  don't  let  him 
go!" 

Mouche  dove  into  the  river  like  a  frightened  frog. 

*'  Come,  come,  my  good  gentleman,"  cried  Pere 
Fourchon  to  Blondet,  jumping  into  the  water  and  leav- 
ing his  sabots  on  the  bank,  "  frighten  him  !  frighten 
him  !  Don't  3  ou  see  him  ?  he  is  swimming  fast  3'our 
way !  " 

The  old  man  dashed  toward  Blondet  through  the 
water,  calling  out  with  the  gravity  that  countrj'  people 
retain  in  the  midst  of  their  greatest    excitements :  — 

''Don't  30U  see  him  there,  there,  along  the  rocks?" 

Blondet,  placed  by  direction  of  the  old  fellow  in  such 
a  wa}'  that  the  spn  was  in  his  eyes,  thrashed  the  water 
with  much  satisfaction  to  himself. 

"Go  on,  go  on!"  cried  Pere  Fourchon;  "on  the 
rock  side ;  the  burrow  is  there,  to  your  left !  " 

Carried  away  b}-  excitement  and  b}'  his  long  waiting, 
Blondet  slipped  from  the  stones  into  the  water. 

"  Ha !  brave  you  are,  mj'  good  gentleman  !     Twenty 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  87 

good  Gods  !  I  see  him  between  jour  legs !  you  '11  have 
him! —  Ah!  there!  he's  gone  —  he's  gone!"  cried 
the  old  man,  in  despair. 

Then,  in  the  fury  of  the  chase,  the  old  fellow  plunged 
into  the  deepest  part  of  the  stream  in  front  of  Blondet. 

"It's  3'our  fault  we've  lost  him!"  he  cried,  as 
Blondet  gave  him  a  hand  to  pull  him  out,  dripping  like 
a  triton,  and  a  vanquished  triton.  "  The  rascal,  1  see 
him,  under  those  rocks !  He  has  let  go  his  fish,"  con- 
tinued Fourchon,  pointing  to  something  that  floated  on 
the  surface.  "We'll  have  that  at  any  rate;  it's  a 
tench,  a  real  tench." 

Just  then  a  groom  in  livery  on  horseback  and  leading 
another  horse  by  the  bridle  galloped  up  the  road  toward 
Conches. 

"  See  !  there's  the  chateau  people  sending  after  you," 
said  the  old  man.  "  If  you  want  to  cross  back  again 
I  '11  give  you  a  hand.  I  don't  mind  about  getting  wet ; 
it  saves  washing  !  " 

"  How  about  rheumatism?  " 

"  Rheumatism  !  don't  you  see  the  sun  has  browned  our 
legs,  Mouche  and  me,  like  tobacco-pipes.  Here,  lean 
on  me,  mj'  good  gentleman  —  you're  from  Paris;  you 
don't  know,  though  you  do  know  so  much,  how  to  jvalk 
on  our  rocks.  If  you  stay  here  long  enough,  you  '11 
learn  a  deal  that's  written  in  the  book  o'  nature, — you 
who  write,  so  they  tell  me,  in  the  newspapers." 

Blondet  had  reached  the  bank  before  Charles,  the 
groom,  perceived  him. 

"Ah,  monsieur!"  he  cried;  "you  don't  know  how 
anxious  Madame  has  been  since  she  heard  you  had 
gone  through  the  gate  of  Conches ;  she  was  afraid 
you  were   drowned.     They  have  rung  the  great  bell 


38  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

three  times,  and  Monsieur  le  cure  is  hunting  for  you 
in  the  park." 

'*  What  time  is  it,  Charles?  " 

*'  A  quarter  to  twelve." 

*'  Help  me  to  mount." 

"  Ha !  "  exclaimed  the  groom,  noticing  the  water  that 
dripped  from  Blondet's  boots  and  trousers,  ''  has  mon- 
sieur been  taken  in  by  Pere  Fourchon's  otter  ?" 

The  words  enlightened  the  journalist. 

"  Don't  sa}^  a  word  about  it,  Charles,"  he  cried,  **  and 
I  '11  make  it  all  right  with  you." 

"Oh,  as  for  that!"  answered  the  man,  ''Monsieur 
le  comte  himself  has  been  taken  in  b}'  that  otter. 
Whenever  a  visitor  comes  to  Les  Aigues,  Pere  Four^ 
chon  sets  himself  on  the  watch,  and  if  the  gentleman 
goes  to  see  the  sources  of  the  Avonne  he  sells  him  the 
otter ;  he  plays  the  trick  so  well  that  Monsieur  le 
comte  has  been  here  three  times  and  paid  him  for  six 
days'  work,  just  to  stare  at  the  water !  '* 

"Heavens!**  thought  Blondet.  "And  I  imagined 
I  had  seen  the  greatest  comedians  of  the  present  day ! 
—  Potier,  the  younger  Baptiste,  Michot,  and  Monrose. 
What  are  they  compared  to  that  old  beggar  ? " 

"•He  is  very  knowing  at  the  business,  Pere  Fourchon 
is,"  continued  Charles ;  "  and  he  has  another  string  to 
his  bow,  besides.  He  calls  himself  a  rope-maker,  and 
has  a  walk  under  the  park  wall  by  the  gate  of  Blang}'. 
If  you  merelj'  touch  his  rope  he  '11  entangle  you  so 
cleverly  that  you  will  want  to  turn  the  wheel  and  make 
a  bit  of  it  3'ourself ;  and  for  that  3'ou  would  have  to 
pay  a  fee  for  apprenticeship.  Madame  herself  was 
taken  in,  and  gave  him  twent}'  francs.  Ah!  he  is  the 
king  of  tricks,  that  old  fellow ! " 


¥ 


Sons  of  the  Soil  39 

The  groom's  gossip  set  Blondet  thinking  of  the  ex- 
treme craftiness  and  wiliness  of  the  French  peasant,  of 
which  he  had  heard  a  great  deal  from  his  father,  a  judge 
at  Alen^on.  Then  the  satirical  meaning  hidden  beneath 
Pere  Fourchon's  apparent  guilelessness  came  back  to 
him,  and  he  owned  himself  "gulled"  b}' the  Burgun- 
dian  beggar. 

*'  You  would  never  believe,  monsieur,"  said  Charles, 
as  they  reached  the  portico  at  Les  Aigues,  "  how  much 
one  is  forced  to  distrust  ever3'body  and  everything  in 
the  countr}',  —  especially  here,  where  the  general  is  not 
much  liked  —  " 

*' Why  not?" 

'*  That 's  more  than  I  know,"  said  Charles,  with  the 
stupid  air  servants  assume  to  shield  themselves  when 
they  wish  not  to  answer  their  superiors,  which  never- 
theless gave  Blondet  a  good  deal  to  think  of. 

'*  Here  you  are,  truant!  "  cried  the  general,  coming 
out  on  the  terrace  when  he  heard  the  horses.  "  Here 
be  is ;  don't  be  uneasy ! "  he  called  back  to  his  wife, 
whose  little  footfalls  were  heard  behind  him.  '*  Now 
the  Abb^  Brossette  is  missing.  Go  and  find  him, 
Charles,"  he  said  to  the  groom. 


40  Sons  of  the  Soil. 


III. 
THE  TAVERN. 

The  gate  of  Blangy,  built  by  Bouret,  was  formed  of 
two  wide  pilasters  of  projecting  rough-hewn  stone; 
each  surmounted  by  a  dog  sitting  on  his  haunches  and 
holding  an  escutcheon  between  his  fore  paws.  The 
proximity  of  a  small  house  where  the  steward  lived  dis- 
pensed with  the  necessity  for  a  lodge.  Between  the 
two  pilasters,  a  sumptuous  iron  gate,  like  those  made 
in  Buifon's  time  for  the  Jardin  des  Plantes,  opened 
on  a  short  paved  wa3^  which  led  to  the  count}-  road 
(formerly  kept  in  careful  order  by  Les  Aigues  and 
the  Soulanges  family)  which  unites  Conches,  Cerneux, 
Blangy,  and  Soulanges  to  Ville-aux-Fa3'es,  like  a  wreath, 
for  the  whole  road  is  lined  with  flowering  hedges  and 
little  houses  covered  with  roses  and  honey-suckle  and 
other  climbing  plants. 

There,  along  a  pretty  wall  which  extends  as  far  as  a 
terrace  from  which  the  land  of  Les  Aigues  falls  rapidly 
to  the  valley  till  it  meets  that  of  Soulanges,  are  the 
rotten  posts,  the  old  wheel,  and  the  forked  stakes 
which  constituted  the  manufactory  of  the  village  rope- 
maker. 

Soon  after  midday,  while  Blondet  was  seating  himself 
at  table  opposite  the  Abbe  Brossette  and  receiving  the 
tender  expostulations  of  the  countess,  Pere  Fourchon 
and  Mouche  arrived  at  this  establishment.     From  that 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  41 

vantage-ground  Pere  Fourchon,  under  pretence  of  rope- 
making,  could  watch  Les  Aigues  and  see  every  one  who 
went  in  and  out.  Nothing  escaped  him,  the  opening  of 
the  blinds,  tete-a-tete  loiterings,  or  the  least  little  inci- 
dents of  country  life,  were  spied  upon  by  the  old  fellow, 
who  had  set  up  this  business  onl}^  within  the  last  three 
years,  —  a  trifling  circumstance  which  neither  the  mas- 
ters, nor  the  servants,  nor  the  keepers  of  Les  Aigues  had 
as  yet  remarked  upon. 

"  Go  round  to  the  house  by  the  gate  of  the  Avonne 
while  I  put  away  the  tackle,"  said  Pere  Fourchon  to  his 
attendant,  "  and  when  you  have  blabbed  about  the 
thing,  they  '11  no  doubt  send  after  me  to  the  Grand-I- 
Vert,  where  I  am  going  for  a  drop  of  drink,  —  for  it 
makes  one  thirsty  enough  to  wade  in  the  water  that 
way.  If  you  do  just  as  I  tell  you,  you  '11  hook  a  good 
breakfast  out  of  them  ;  try  to  meet  the  countess,  and 
give  a  slap  at  me,  and  that  will  put  it  into  her  head  to 
come  and  preach  morality  or  something  !  There 's  lots 
of  good  wine  to  get  out  of  it.  '* 

After  these  last  instructions,  which  the  sly  look  in 
Mouche's  face  rendered  quite  superfluous,  the  old  peas- 
ant, hugging  the  otter  under  his  arm,  disappeared 
along  the  county  road. 

Half-way  between  the  ^  gate  and  the  village  there 
stood,  at  the  time  when  Emile  Blondet  stayed  at  Les 
Aigues,  one  of  those  houses  which  are  never  seen  but 
in  parts  of  France  where  stone  is  scarce.  Bits  of  bricks 
picked  up  anywhere,  cobblestones  set  like  diamonds  in 
the  clay  mud,  formed  very  solid  walls,  though  worn  in 
places ;  the  roof  was  supported  by  stout  branches  and 
covered  with  rushes  and  straw,  while  the  clumsy  shut- 
ters and  the  broken  door — in  short,  everything  about 


4*2  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

the  cottage  was  the  product  of  luck}'  finds,  or  of  gifts 
obtained  by  begging. 

The  peasant  has  an  instinct  for  his  habitation  like 
that  of  an  animal  for  its  nest  or  its  burrow,  and  this  in- 
stinct was  ver}^  marked  in  all  the  arrangements  of  this 
cottage.  In  the  first  place,  the  door  and  the  window 
looked  to  the  north.  The  house,  placed  on  a  little  rise 
in  the  stoniest  angle  of  a  vineyard,  was  certainly 
healthful.  It  was  reached  by  three  steps,  carefully  made 
with  stakes  and  planks  filled  in  with  broken  stone  and 
gravel,  so  that  the  water  ran  off  rapidl}' ;  and  as  the 
rain  seldom  comes  from  the  northward  in  Burgundy, 
no  dampness  could  rot  the  foundations,  slight  as  they 
were.  Below  the  steps  and  along  the  path  ran  a  rustic 
paling,  hidden  beneath  a  hedge  of  hawthorn  and  sweet- 
brier.  An  arbor,  with  a  few  clumsy  tables  and  wooden 
benches,  filled  the  space  between  the  cottage  and  the 
road,  and  invited  the  passers-b}'  to  rest  themselves. 
At  the  upper  end  of  the  bank  by  the  house  roses  grew, 
and  wall-flowers,  violets,  and  other  flowers  that  cost 
nothing.  Jessamine  and  honey-suckle  had  fastened 
their  tendrils  on  the  roof,  mossy  alreadj',  though  the 
building  was  far  from  old. 

To  the  right  of  the  house,  the  owner  had  built  a  stable 
for  two  cows.  In  front  of  this  erection  of  old  boards,  a 
sunken  piece  of  ground  served  as  a  yard  where,  in  a 
corner,  was  a  huge  manure-heap.  On  the  other  side  of 
the  house  and  the  arbor  stood  a  thatched  shed,  sup- 
ported on  trunks  of  trees,  under  which  the  various  out- 
door properties  of  the  peasantr}'  were  put  awa}^,  —  the 
utensils  of  the  vine-dressers,  their  empty  casks,  logs  of 
wood  piled  about  a  mound  which  contained  the  oven, 
the  mouth  of  which  opened,  as  was  usual  in  the  houses 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  43 

of  the  peasantry,  under  the  mantle-piece  of  the  chimney 
in  the  kitchen. 

About  an  acre  of  land  adjoined  the  house,  inclosed 
by  an  evergreen  hedge  and  planted  with  grape-vines ; 
tended  as  peasants  tend  them,  —  that  is  to  say,  well- 
manured,  and  dug  round,  and  layered  so  that  they 
usually  set  their  fruit  before  th^  vines  of  the  large  pro- 
prietors in  a  circuit  of  ten  miles  round.  A  few  trees, 
almond,  plum,  and  apricot,  showed  their  slim  heads 
here  and  there  in  this  enclosure.  Between  the  rows  of 
vines  potatoes  and  beans  were  planted.  In  addition  to 
all  this,  on  the  side  towards  the  village  and  be3'ond  the 
yard  was  a  bit  of  damp  low  ground,  favorable  for  the 
growth  of  cabbages  and  onions  (favorite  vegetables  of 
the  working-classes),  which  was  closed  b}^  a  wooden 
gate,  through  which  the  cows  were  driven,  trampling 
the  path  into  mud  and  covering  it  with  dung. 

The  house,  which  had  two  rooms  on  the  ground-floor, 
opened  upon  the  vineyard.  On  this  side  an  outer 
stairway,  roofed  with  thatch  and  resting  against  the 
wall  of  the  house,  led  up  to  the  garret,  which  was 
lighted  by  one  round  window.  Under  this  rustic 
stairway  opened  a  cellar  built  of  Burgundy  brick, 
containing  several  casks  of  wine. 

Though  the  kitchen  utensils  of  the  peasantry  are 
usually  only  two,  namely,  a  frying-pan  and  an  iron  pot, 
with  which  the}-  manage  to  do  all  their  cooking,  ex- 
ceptions to  this  rule,  in  the  shape  of  two  enormous 
saucepans  hanging  beneath  the  mantle-shelf  and  above 
a  small  portable  stove,  were  to  be  seen  in  this  cottage. 
In  spite,  however,  of  this  indication  of  luxur}',  the 
furniture  was  in  keeping  with  the  external  appearance 
of  the  place.     A  jar  held  water,  the  spoons  were  of 


44  Sons  of  the  Soil, 

wood  or  pewter,  the  dishes,  of  red  clay  without  and 
white  within,  were  scaUng  off  and  had  been  mended  with 
pewter  rivets  ;  the  heavy  table  and  chairs  were  of  pine 
wood,  and  for  flooring  there  was  nothing  better  than  the 
hardened  earth.  Ever}^  fifth  year  the  walls  received 
a  coat  of  white-wash  and  so  did  the  narrow  beams  of 
the  ceiling,  from  which  hung  bacon,  strings  of  onions, 
bundles  of  tallow  candles,  and  the  bags  in  which  a 
peasant  keeps  his  seeds  ;  near  the  bread-box  stood 
an  old-fashioned  wardrobe  in  walnut,  where  the  scanty 
household  linen,  and  the  one  change  of  garments  to- 
gether with  the  holiday  attire  of  tlie  famil}'  were  kept. 

Above  the  mantel  of  the  chimney  gleamed  a  poacher's 
old  gun,  not  worth  five  francs,  —  the  wood  scorched, 
the  barrel  to  all  appearance  never  cleaned.  An  ob- 
server might  reflect  that  the  protection  of  a  hovel  with 
only  a  latch,  and  an  outer  gate  that  was  only  a  paling  and 
never  closed,  needed  no  better  weapon ;  but  still  the 
wonder  was  to  what  use  it  was  put.  In  the  first  place, 
though  the  wood  was  of  the  commonest  kind,  the  barrel 
was  carefully  selected,  and  came  from  a  valuable  gun, 
given  in  all  probability  to  a  game-keeper.  Moreover, 
the  owner  of  this  weapon  never  missed  his  aim ;  there 
was  between  him  and  his  gun  the  same  intimate  ac- 
quaintance that  there  is  between  a  workman  and  his 
tool.  If  the  muzzle  must  be  raised  or  lowered  the 
merest  fraction  in  its  aim,  because  it  carries  just  an 
atom  above  or  below  the  range,  the  poacher  knows 
it ;  he  obeys  the  rule  and  never  misses.  An  oflScer 
of  artillery  would  have  found  the  essential  parts  of  this 
weapon  in  good  condition  notwithstanding  its  uncleanly 
appearance.  In  all  that  the  peasant  appropriates  to 
his  use,  in  all  that  serves  him,  he  displajs  just  the 


I 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  45 


amount  of  force  that  is  needed,  neither  more  nor  less  ; 
he  attends  to  the  essential  and  to  nothing  beyond. 
External  perfection  he  has  no  conception  of.  An 
unerring  judge  of  the  necessar}'  in  all  things,  he  thor- 
oughl}'  understands  degrees  of  strength,  and  knows 
very  well  when  working  for  an  emplo^'er  how  to  give 
the  least  possible  for  the  most  he  can  get.  This  con- 
temptible-looking gun  will  be  found  to  plaj'  a  serious 
part  in  the  life  of  the  famil3^  inhabiting  this  cottage, 
and  you  will  presently  learn  how  and  why. 

Have  you  now  taken  in  all  the  man^-  details  of  this 
hovel,  planted  about  five  hundred  feet  away  from  the 
pretty  gate  of  Les  Aigues  ?  Do  you  see  it  crouching 
there,  like  a  beggar  beside  a  palace?  Well,  its  roof 
covered  with  velvet  mosses,  its  clacking  hens,  its 
grunting  pig,  its  straying  heifer,  all  its  rural  graces 
have  a  horrible  meaning. 

Fastened  to  a  pole,  which  was  stuck  in  the  ground 
beside  the  entrance  through  the  fence,  was  a  withered 
bunch  of  three  pine  branches  and  some  old  oak-leaves 
tied  together  with  a  rag.  Above  the  door  of  the  house 
a  roving  artist  had  painted,  probably  in  return  for  his 
breakfast,  a  huge  capital  "I"  in  green  on  a  white 
ground  two  feet  square  ;  and  for  the  benefit  of  those  who 
could  read,  this  witty  joke  in  twelve  letters  :  "  Au  Grand- 
I-Vert  "  (hiver).  On  the  left  of  the  door  was  a  vulgar 
sign  bearing,  in  colored  letters,  "Good  March  beer," 
and  the  picture  of  a  foaming  pot  of  the  same,  with  a 
woman,  in  a  dress  excessively  low-necked,  on  one  side, 
and  an  hussar  on  the  other,  —  both  coarsely  colored. 
Consequentl}',  in  spite  of  the  blooming  flowers  and  the 
fresh  country  air,  this  cottage  exhaled  the  same  strong 
and  nauseous  odor  of  wine  and  food  which  assails  you 


46  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

in  Paris  as  you  pass  the  door  of  the  cheap  cook-shops 
of  the  faubourg. 

Now  you  know  the  surroundings.  Behold  the  in- 
habitants and  hear  their  liistory,  which  contains  more 
tlian  one  lesson  for  philanthropists. 

The  proprietor  of  the  Grand-I-Vert,  named  Francois 
Tonsard,  commends  himself  to  the  attention  of  phi- 
losophers b}'  the  manner  in  which  he  had  solved  the 
problem  of  an  idle  life  and  a  busy  life,  so  as  to  make 
idleness  profitable,  and  occupation  nil. 

A  jack-at-all-trades,  he  knew  how  to  cultivate  the 
ground,  but  for  himself  onl3%  For  others,  he  dug 
ditches,  gathered  fagots,  barked  the  trees,  or  cut 
them  down.  In  all  such  work  the  employer  is  at 
the  mercy  of  the  workman.  Tonsard  owed  his  plot 
of  ground  to  the  generosity  of  Mademoiselle  Laguerre. 
In  his  early  youth  he  had  worked  by  the  day  for  the 
gardener  at  Les  Aigues  ;  and  he  really  had  not  his  equal 
in  trimming  the  shrubbery-trees,  the  hedges,  the  horn- 
beamsi  and  the  horse-chestnuts.  His  very  name  shows 
hereditary  talent.  In  remote  country-places  privileges 
exist  which  are  obtained  and  preserved  with  as  much 
care  as  the  merchants  of  a  city  display  in  getting  theirs. 
Mademoiselle  Laguerre  was  one  day  walking  in  the 
garden,  when  she  overheard  Tonsard,  then  a  strapping 
fellow,  say,  "  All  I  need  to  live  on,  and  live  happily, 
is  an  acre  of  land."  The  kind  creature,  accustomed 
to  make  others  happ}',  gave  him  the  acre  of  vineyard 
near  the  gate  of  Blang}^,  in  return  for  one  hundred 
days'  work  (a  delicate  regard  for  his  feelings  which 
was  little  understood),  and  allowed  him  to  stay  at  Les 
Aigues,  where  he  lived  with  her  servants,  who  thought 
him  one  of  the  best  fellows  in  Burgund}'. 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  47 

Poor  Tonsard  (that  is  what  everybody  called  him) 
worked  about  thirty  days  out  of  the  hundred  that  he 
owed  ;  the  rest  of  the  time  he  idled  about,  talking  and 
laughing  with  Mademoiselle's  women,  particularly  with 
Mademoiselle  Cochet,  the  lady's  maid,  though  she  was 
ugly,  like  all  confidential  maids  of  handsome  actresses. 
Laughing  with  Mademoiselle  Cochet  signified  so  many 
things  that  Soudry,  the  fortunate  gendarme  mentioned 
in  Blondet's  letter,  still  looked  askance  at  Tonsard  after 
the  lapse  of  nearly  twenty-five  years.  The  walnut  ward- 
robe, the  bedstead  with  the  tester  and  curtains,  and  the 
ornaments  about  the  bedroom  were  doubtless  the  result 
of  the  said  laughter. 

Once  in  possession  of  his  acre,  Tonsard  replied  to 
the  first  person  who  happened  to  mention  that  Made- 
moiselle Laguerre  had  given  it  to  him,  "I've  bought 
it  deuced  hard,  and  paid  well  for  it.  Do  rich  folks  ever 
give  us  anything?  Are  one  hundred  days'  work  noth- 
ing? It  has  cost  me  three  hundred  francs,  and  the  land 
is  all  stones."  But  that  speech  never  got  beyond  the 
regions  of  his  own  class. 

Tonsard  built  his  house  himself,  picking  up  the 
materials  here  and  there  as  he  could, — getting  a 
day's  work  out  of  this  one  and  that  one,  gleaning  in  the 
rubbish  that  was  thrown  away,  often  asking  for  things 
and  always  obtaining  them.  A  discarded  door  cut  in 
two  for  convenience  in  carrying  awa}^  became  the  door 
of  the  stable ;  the  window  was  the  sash  of  a  green- 
house. In  short,  the  rubbish  of  the  chateau,  served 
to  build  the  fatal  cottage. 

Saved  from  the  draft  b}'  Gaubertin,  the  steward  of 
I.es  Aigues,  whose  father  was  prosecuting-attorney 
of  the  department,   and  who,   moreover,  could  refuse 


48  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

nothing  to  Mademoiselle  Cochet,  Tonsard  married  as 
soon  as  his  house  was  finished  and  his  vines  had 
begun  to  bear.  A  well-grown  fellow  of  twent}- -three, 
in  everybod3^'s  good  graces  at  Les  Aigues,  on  whom 
Mademoiselle  had  bestowed  an  acre  of  her  land,  and 
who  appeared  to  be  a  good  worker,  he  had  the  art  to 
ring  the  praises  of  his  negative  merits,  and  so  obtained 
the  daughter  of  a  farmer  on  the  Ronquerolles  estate, 
which  lies  be3'Ond  the  forest  of  Les  Aigues. 

This  farmer  held  the  lease  of  half  a  farm,  which  was 
going  to  ruin  in  his  hands  for  want  of  a  helpmate. 
A  widower,  and  inconsolable  for  the  loss  of  his  wife, 
he  tried  to  drown  his  troubles,  Hke  the  English,  in 
wine,  and  then,  when  he  had  put  the  poor  deceased 
out  of  his  mind,  he  found  himself  married,  so  the  vil- 
lage maliciousl}'  declared,  to  a  woman  named  Boisson. 
From  being  a  farmer  he  became  once  more  a  laborer, 
but  an  idle  and  drunken  laborer,  quarrelsome  and  vin- 
dictive, capable  of  any  ill-deed,  like  most  of  his  class 
when  they  fall  from  a  well-to-do  state  of  life  into  poverty. 
This  man,  whose  practical  information  and  knowledge 
of  reading  and  writing  placed  him  far  above  his  fellow- 
workmen,  while  his  vices  kept  him  at  the  level  of  pau- 
perism, 3^ou  have  alreadj'  seen  on  the  banks  of  the 
Avonne,  measuring  his  cleverness  with  that  of  one  of  the 
cleverest  men  in  Paris,  in  a  bucolic  overlooked  by  Virgil. 

Pere  Fourchon,  formerly  a  schoolmaster  at  Blangy, 
lost  that  place  through  misconduct  and  his  singular 
ideas  as  to  public  education.  He  helped  the  children 
to  make  paper  boats  with  their  alphabets  much  oftener 
than  he  taught  them  to  spell;  he  scolded  them  in  so 
remarkable  a  manner  for  pilfering  fruit  that  his  lec- 
tures might  reall}'  have  passed  for  lessons  on  the  best 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  49 

way  of  scaling  the  walls.  From  teacher  he  became  a 
postman.  In  this  capacity,  which  serves  as  a  refuge 
to  man}'  an  old  soldier,  Pere  Fourchon  was  daily  repri- 
manded. Sometimes  he  forgot  the  letters  in  a  tavern, 
at  other  times  he  kept  them  in  his  pocket.  When 
he  was  drunk  he  left  those  for  one  village  in  another 
village;  when  he  was  sober  he  read  them.  Conse- 
quentl}',  he  was  soon  dismissed.  No  longer  able  to 
serve  the  State,  Pere  Fourchon  ended  by  becoming  a 
manufacturer.  In  the  country  a  poor  man  can  always 
get  something  to  do,  and  make  at  least  a  pretence  of 
gaining  an  honest  livelihood.  At  sixt3^-eight  years  of 
age  the  old  man  started  his  rope-walk,  a  manufactor}' 
which  requires  the  very  smallest  capital.  The  work- 
shop is,  as  we  have  seen,  any  convenient  wall ;  the 
machinery  costs  about  ten  francs.  The  apprentice  slept, 
like  his  master,  in  a  hay-loft,  and  Uved  on  whatever  he 
could  pick  up.  The  rapacity  of  the  law  in  the  matter  of 
doors  and  windows  expires  sub  dio.  The  tow  to  make 
the  first  rope  can  be  borrowed.  But  the  principal  rev- 
enue of  Pere  Fourchon  and  his  satellite  Mouche,  the 
natural  son  of  one  of  his  natural  daughters,  came  from 
the  otters ;  and  then  there  were  breakfasts  and  dinners 
given  them  by  peasants  who  could  neither  read  nor  write, 
and  were  glad  to  use  the  old  fellow's  talents  when  they 
had  a  bill  to  make  out,  or  a  letter  to  dispatch.  Besides 
all  this,  he  knew  how  to  play  the  clarionet,  and  he  went 
about  with  his  friend  Vermichel,  the  miller  of  Sou- 
langes,  to  village  weddings  and  the  grand  balls  given  at 
the  Tivoli  of  Soulanges. 

Vermichel's  name  was  Michel  Vert,  but  the  transpo- 
sition was  so  generally  used  that  Brunet,  the  clerk  of  the 
municipal  court  of  Soulanges,  was  in  the  habit  of  writ- 

4 


60  fSons  of  the  Soil. 

ing  Michel-Jean-Jerome  Vert,  called  Vermichel,  practi- 
tioner. Vermichel,  a  famous  violin  in  the  Burgundian 
regiment  of  former  da3's,  had  procured  for  Pere  Four- 
chon,  in  recognition  of  certain  services,  a  situation 
as  practitioner,  which  in  remote  country-places  usually 
devolves  on  those  who  are  able  to  sign  their  name. 
Pere  Fourchon  therefore  added  to  his  other  avocations 
that  of  witness,  or  practitioner  of  legal  papers,  when- 
ever the  Sieur  Brunet  came  to  draw  them  in  the  dis- 
tricts of  Cerneux,  Conches,  and  Blangy.  Vermichel 
and  Fourchon,  allied  by  a  friendship  of  twenty  years' 
tippling,  might  reall}^  be  considered  a  business  firm. 

Mouche  and  Fourchon,  bound  together  by  vice  as 
Mentor  and  Telemachus  by  virtue,  travelled  like  the 
latter,  in  search  of  their  father,  panis  angelorum,  —  the 
only  Latin  words  which  the  old  fellow's  memory  had  re- 
tained. They  went  about  scraping  up  the  pickings  of 
the  Grand-I-Vert,  and  those  of  the  adjacent  chateaux  ; 
for  between  them,  in  their  busiest  and  most  prosperous 
years,  they  had  never  contrived  to  make  as  much  as 
three  hundred  and  sixty  fathom  of  rope.  In  the  first 
place,  no  dealer  within  a  radius  of  fifty  miles  would 
have  trusted  his  tow  to  either  Mouche  or  Fourchon. 
The  old  man,  surpassing  the  miracles  of  modern  chem- 
istry, knew  too  well  how  to  resolve  the  tow  into  the  all- 
benignant  juice  of  the  grape.  Moreover,  his  triple 
functions  of  public  writer  for  three  townships,  legal 
practitioner  for  one,  and  clarionet-player  at  large,  hin- 
dered, so  he  said,  the  development  of  his  business. 

Thus  it  happened  that  Tonsard  was  disappointed 
from  the  start  in  the  hope  he  had  indulged  of  increas- 
ing his  comfort  b}'  an  increase  of  property  in  marriage. 
The  idle  son-in-law  had  chanced,  by  a  very  common 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  61 

accident,  on  an  idler  father-in-law.  Matters  went  all 
the  worse  because  Tonsard's  wife,  gifted  with  a  sort 
of  rustic  beauty,  being  tall  and  well-made,  was  not 
fond  of  work  in  the  open  air.  Tonsard  blamed  his  wife 
for  her  father's  short-comings,  and  ill-treated  her,  with 
the  customary  revenge  of  the  common  people,  whose 
minds  take  in  only  an  effect  and  rarely  look  back  to 
causes. 

Finding  her  fetters  heav}^  the  woman  lightened 
them.  She  used  Tonsard's  vices  to  get  the  better  of 
him.  Loving  comfort  and  good  eating  herself,  she  en- 
couraged his  idleness  and  gluttony.  In  the  first  place, 
she  managed  to  procure  the  good-will  of  the  servants 
of  the  chateau,  and  Tonsard,  in  view  of  the  results, 
made  no  complaint  as  to  the  means.  He  cared  very 
little  what  his  wife  did,  so  long  as  she  did  all  he  wanted 
of  her.  That  is  the  secret  agreement  of  many  a  house- 
hold. Madame  Tonsard  established  the  wine-shop  of 
the  Grand-I-Vert,  her  first  customers  being  the  ser- 
vants of  Les  Aigues  and  the  keepers  and  huntsmen. 

Gaubertin,  formerly  steward  to  Mademoiselle  La- 
guerre,  one  of  La  Tonsard's  chief  patrons,  gave  her 
several  puncheons  of  excellent  wine  to  attract  custom. 
The  effect  of  these  gifts  (continued  as  long  as  Gaubertin 
remained  a  bachelor)  and  the  fame  of  her  rather  lawless 
beauty  commended  this  woman  to  the  Don  Juans  of 
the  valley,  and  filled  the  wine-shop  of  the  Grand-I-Vert. 
Being  a  lover  of  good  eating.  La  Tonsard  was  naturally 
an  excellent  cook ;  and  though  her  talents  were  only 
exercised  on  the  common  dishes  of  the  country,  jugged 
hare,  game  sauce,  stewed  fish  and  omelets,  she  was 
considered  in  all  the  countrj'  round  to  be  an  admirable 
cook  of  the  sort  of  food  which  is  eaten  at  a  counter  and 


62  Sons  of  the  Soil.  i 

spiced  in  a  wa}^  to  excite  a  desire  for  drink.  By  the 
end  of  two  ^-ears,  she  had  managed  to  rule  Tonsard, 
and  turn  him  to  evil  courses,  which,  indeed,  he  asked 
no  better  than  to  indulge  in. 

The  rascal  was  continually^  poaching,  and  with  noth- 
ing to  fear  from  it.  The  intimacies  of  his  wife  with 
Gaubertin  and  the  keepers  and  the  rural  authorities, 
together  with  the  laxity  of  the  times,  secured  him  im- 
punity. As  soon  as  his  children  were  large  enough 
he  made  them  serviceable  to  his  comfort,  caring  no 
more  for  their  morality  than  for  that  of  his  wife.  He 
had  two  sons  and  two  daughters.  Tonsard,  who  lived, 
as  did  his  wife,  from  hand  to  mouth,  might  have  come 
to  an  end  of  this  easy  life  if  he  had  not  maintained 
a  sort  of  martial  law  over  his  famil3%  which  compelled 
them  to  work  for  the  preservation  of  it.  When  he  had 
brought  up  his  children,  at  the  cost  of  those  from  whom 
his  wife  was  able  to  extort  gifts,  the  following  charter 
and  budget  were  the  law  at  the  Grand-I-Vert. 

Tonsard's  old  mother  and  his  two  daughters,  Cath- 
erine and  Marie,  went  into  the  woods  at  certain  sea- 
sons twice  a-da}',  and  came  back  laden  with  fagots 
which  overhung  the  crutch  of  their  poles  at  least  two 
feet  beyond  their  heads.  Though  dried  sticks  were 
placed  on  the  outside  of  the  heap,  the  inside  was  made 
of  live  wood  cut  from  the  young  trees.  In  plain  words, 
Tonsard  helped  himself  to  his  winter's  fuel  in  the  woods 
of  Les  Aigues.  Besides  this,  father  and  sons  were  con- 
stantly poaching.  From  September  to  March,  hares, 
rabbits,  partridges,  deer,  in  short,  all  the  game  that 
was  not  eaten  at  the  chateau,  was  sold  at  Blangy  and  at 
Soulanges,  where  Tonsard's  two  daughters  peddled  milk 
in  the  early  mornings,  —  coming  back  with  the  news  of 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  53 

the  day,  in  return  for  the  gossip  they  carried  about 
Les  Aigues,  and  Cerneux,  and  Conches.  In  the 
months  when  the  three  Tonsards  were  unable  to  hunt 
with  a  gun,  they  set  traps.  If  the  traps  caught  more 
game  than  they  could  eat,  La  Tonsard  made  pies  of  it 
and  sent  them  to  Ville-aux-Fayes.  In  harvest-time 
seven  Tonsards  —  the  old  mother,  the  two  sons  (until 
the}'  were  seventeen  years  of  age),  the  two  daughters, 
together  with  old  Fourchon  and  Mouche  — gleaned,  and 
generall}'  brought  in  about  sixteen  bushels  a  day  of  all 
grains,  rye,  barley,  wheat,  all  good  to  grind. 

The  two  cows,  led  to  the  roadside  by  the  youngest 
girl,  always  managed  to  stray  into  the  meadows  of 
Les  Aigues ;  but  as,  if  it  ever  chanced  that  some  too 
flagrant  trespass  compelled  the  keepers  to  take  notice 
of  it,  the  children  were  either  whipped  or  deprived  of  a 
coveted  daint3%  they  had  acquired  such  extraordinary 
aptitude  in  hearing  the  enemy's  footfall  that  the  bailiff 
or  the  park-keeper  of  Les  Aigues  was  very  seldom 
able  to  detect  them.  Besides,  the  relations  of  those 
estimable  functionaries  with  Tonsard  and  his  wife  tied 
a  bandage  over  their  eyes.  The  cows,  held  by  long 
ropes,  obeyed  a  mere  twitch  or  a  special  low  call 
back  to  the  roadside,  knowing  very  well  that,  the 
danger  once  past,  they  could  finish  their  browsing  in 
the  next  field.  Old  mother  Tonsard,  who  was  getting 
more  and  more  infirm,  succeeded  Mouche  in  his  duties, 
after  Fourchon,  under  pretence  of  caring  for  his  natu- 
ral grandson's  education,  kept  him  to  himself;  while 
Marie  and  Catherine  made  hay  in  the  woods^  These 
girls  knew  the  exact  spots  where  the  fine  forest-grass 
abounded,  and  there  they  cut  and  spread  and  cocked 
and  garnered  it,  supplying  two  thirds,  at  least,  of  the 


54  Sons  of  the  Soil, 

winter  fodder,  and  leading  the  cows  on  all  fine  days  to 
sheltered  nooks  where  they  could  still  find  pasture. 
In  certain  parts  of  the  valley  of  Les  Aigues,  as  in  all 
places  protected  by  a  chain  of  mountains,  in  Piedmont 
and  in  Lombardy  for  instance,  there  are  spots  where 
the  grass  keeps  green  all  the  year.  Such  fields,  called 
in  Italy  marciti^  are  of  great  vahie ;  though  in  France 
they  are  often  in  danger  of  being  injured  by  snow  and 
ice.  This  phenomenon  is  due,  no  doubt,  to  some 
favorable  exposure,  and  to  the  infiltration  of  water 
which  keeps  the  ground  at  a  warmer  temperature. 

The  calves  were  sold  for  about  eighty  francs.  The 
milk,  deducting  the  time  when  the  cows  calved  or  went 
dry,  brought  in  about  one  hundred  and  sixty  francs  a 
year  besides  supplying  the  wants  of  the  family.  Ton- 
sard  himself  managed  to  earn  another  hundred  and 
sixty  by  doing  odd  jobs  of  one  kind  or  another. 

The  sale  of  food  and  wine  in  the  tavern,  after  all 
costs  were  paid,  returned  a  profit  of  about  three  hun- 
dred francs,  for  the  great  drinking-bouts  happened  only 
at  certain  times  and  in  certain  seasons ;  and  as  the 
topers  who  indulged  in  them  gave  Tonsard  and  his  wife 
due  notice,  the  latter  bought  in  the  neighboring  town 
the  exact  quantity  of  provisions  needed  and  no  more. 
The  wine  produced  by  Tonsard's  vineyard  was  sold  in 
ordinary  years  for  twenty  francs  a  cask  to  a  wine- 
dealer  at  Soulanges  with  whom  Tonsard  was  intimate. 
In  very  prolific  years  he  got  as  much  as  twelve  casks 
from  his  vines,  but  eight  was  the  average ;  and  Ton- 
sard kept  half  for  his  own  traffic.  In  all  wine-growing 
districts  the  gleaning  of  the  large  vineyards  gives  a 
good  perquisite,  and  out  of  it  the  Tonsard  family 
usually    managed    to  obtain    three  casks   more.     But 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  55 

being,  as  we  have  seen,  sheltered  and  protected  bj^the 
keepers,  they  showed  no  conscience  in  their  proceed- 
ings,—  entering  vine3'ards  before  the  harvesters  were 
out  of  them,  just  as  they  swarmed  into  the  wheat-fields 
before  the  sheaves  were  made.  So,  the  seven  or  eight 
casks  of  wine,  as  much  gleaned  as  harvested,  were  sold 
for  a  good  price.  However,  out  of  these  various  pro- 
ceeds the  Grand-I-Vert  was  mulcted  in  a  good  sum 
for  the  personal  consumption  of  Tonsard  and  his  wife, 
who  wanted  the  best  of  everything  to  eat,  and  better 
wine  than  they  sold,  —  which  they  obtained  from  their 
friend  at  Soulanges  in  payment  for  their  own.  In  short, 
the  money  scraped  together  by  this  family  amounted  to 
about  nine  hundred  francs,  for  they  fattened  two  pigs 
a  year,  one  for  themselves  and  the  other  to  sell. 

The  idlers  and  scapegraces  and  also  the  laborers 
took  a  fancy  to  the  tavern  of  the  Grand-I-Vert,  partly 
because  of  La  Tonsard's  merits,  and  partly  on  account 
of  the  hail-fellow-well-met  relation  existing  between  this 
family  and  the  lower  classes  of  the  valley.  The  two 
daughters,  both  remarkablj^  handsome,  followed  the 
example  of  their  mother  as  to  morals.  Moreover,  the 
long  established  fame  of  the  Grand-I-Vert,  dating  from 
1795,  made  it  a  venerable  spot  in  the  eyes  of  the  com- 
mon people.  From  Conches  to  Ville-aux-Fayes,  work- 
men came  there  to  meet  and  make  their  bargains  and 
hear  the  news  collected  b\^  the  Tonsard  women  and  by 
Mouche  and  old  Fourchon,  or  supplied  by  Vermichel 
and  Brunet,  that  renowned  official,  when  he  came  to  the 
tavern  in  search  of  his  practitioner.  There  the  price 
of  hay  and  of  wine  was  settled ;  also  that  of  a  day's 
work  and  of  piece-work.  Tonsard,  a  sovereign  judge  in 
such  matters,  gave  his  adyice  and  opinion  while  drink- 


66  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

ing  with  his  guests.  Soiilanges,  according  to  a  saving 
in  these  parts,  was  a  town  for  society  and  amusement 
onh' ,  while  Blangy  was  a  business  borough ;  crushed, 
however,  by  the  great  commercial  centre  of  Ville-aux- 
Fayes,  which  had  become  in  the  last  twenty-five  years 
the  capital  of  this  flourishing  valley.  The  cattle  and 
grain  marlcet  was  held  at  Blangy,  in  the  jDublic  square, 
and  the  prices  there  obtained  served  as  a  tariff  for  the 
whole  arrondissement. 

By  sta3'ing  in  the  house  and  doing  no  out-door  work. 
La  Tonsard  continued  fresh  and  fair  and  dimpled,  in 
comparison  with  the  women  who  worked  in  the  fields 
and  faded  as  rapidly  as  the  flowers,  becoming  old  and 
haggard  before  they  were  thirty.  She  liked  to  be  well- 
dressed.  In  point  of  fact,  she  was  only  clean,  but  in 
a  village  cleanliness  is  luxury.  The  daughters,  better 
dressed  than  their  means  warranted,  followed  their 
mother's  example.  Beneath  their  outer  garment,  which 
was  relatively  handsome,  the}"  wore  linen  much  finer 
than  that  of  the  richest  peasant  women.  On  fete-days 
the}^  appeared  in  dresses  that  were  really  pretty,  ob- 
tained. Heaven  knows  how !  For  one  thing,  the  men- 
servants  at  Les  Aigues  sold  to  them,  at  prices  that  were 
easily  paid,  the  cast-off  clothing  of  the  lad3''s-maids, 
which,  after  sweeping  the  streets  of  Paris  and  being  made 
over  to  fit  Marie  and  Catherine,  appeared  triumphantly 
in  the  precincts  of  the  Grand-I-Vert.  These  girls,  bohe- 
mians  of  the  valley,  received  not  one  penny  in  money 
from  their  parents,  who  gave  them  their  food  only,  and 
the  wretched  pallets  on  which  they  slept  with  their 
grandmother  in  the  barn,  where  their  brothers  also  slept, 
curled  up  in  the  hay  like  animals.  Neither  father  nor 
mother  paid  any  heed  to  this  propinquity. 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  57 

The  iron  age  and  the  age  of  gold  are  more  alike  than 
we  think  for.  In  the  one  nothing  aroused  vigilance ; 
in  the  other,  everything  rouses  it ;  the  result  to  society 
is,  perhaps,  very  much  the  same.  The  presence  of  old 
Mother  Tonsard,  wliich  was  more  a  necessity  than  a 
precaution,  was  simply  one  immorality  the  more.  And 
thus  it  was  that  the  Abbe  Brossette,  after  studying  the 
morals  of  his  parishioners,  made  this  pregnant  remark 
to  his  bishop  :  — 

"  Monseigneur,  when  I  observe  the  stress  that  the 
peasantiy  lay  on  their  poverty,  I  realize  how  they  fear 
to  lose  that  excuse  for  their  immorality." 

Though  ever3body  knew  that  the  family  had  no  prin- 
ciples and  no  scruples,  nothing  was  ever  said  against 
the  morals  of  the  Grand-I-Vert.  At  the  beginning 
of  this  book  it  is  necessary  to  explain,  once  for  all,  to 
persons  accustomed  to  the  decencies  of  middle-class 
life,  that  the  peasants  have  no  decency  in  their  do- 
mestic habits  and  customs.  They  make  no  appeal  to 
morality  when  their  daughters  are  seduced,  unless  the 
seducer  is  rich  and  timid.  Children,  until  the  State 
takes  possession  of  them,  are  used  either  as  capital  or 
as  instruments  of  convenience.  Self-interest  has  be- 
come, specially  since  1789,  the  sole  motive  of  the 
masses  ;  they  never  ask  if  an  action  is  legal  or  immoral, 
but  onl}^  if  it  is  profitable.  Morality,  which  is  not  to 
be  confounded  with  religion,  begins  onlj^  at  a  certain 
competence,  — just  as  one  sees,  in  a  higher  sphere,  how 
delicacy  blossoms  in  the  soul  when  fortune  decorates 
the  furniture.  A  positively  moral  and  upright  man  is 
rare  among  the  peasantry.  Do  you  ask  why?  Among 
the  many  reasons  that  may  be  given  for  this  state  of 
things,  the  principal  one  is  this  :    Through  the  nature 


58  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

of  their  social  functions,  the  peasants  live  a  purely  ma- 
terial life  which  approximates  to  that  of  savages,  and 
their  constant  union  with  nature  tends  to  foster  it. 
When  toil  exhausts  the  body  it  talves  from  the  mind 
its  purifying  action,  especially  among  the  ignorant. 
The  Abbe  Brossette  was  right  in  saying  that  the  state 
policy  of  the  peasant  is  his  povert}'. 

Meddling  in  everybody's  interests,  Tonsard  heard 
everybody's  complaints,  and  often  instigated  frauds  to 
benefit  the  needy.  His  wife,  a  kindly  appearing  woman, 
had  a  good  word  for  evil-doers,  and  never  withheld  either 
approval  or  personal  help  from  her  customers  in  any- 
thing they  undertook  against  the  rich.  This  inn,  a  nest 
of  vipers,  brisk  and  venomous,  seething  and  active,  was 
a  hot-bed  for  the  hatred  of  the  peasants  and  the  work- 
ingmen  against  the  masters  and  the  wealthy. 

The  prosperous  life  of  the  Tonsards  was,  therefore,  an 
evil  example.  Others  asked  themselves  wh}^  the}'  should 
not  take  their  wood,  as  the  Tonsards  did,  from  the  for- 
est ;  wh}^  not  pasture  their  cows  and  have  game  to  eat 
and  to  sell  as  well  as  they  ;  why  not  harvest  without 
sowing  the  grapes  and  the  grain.  Accordingl}',  the 
pilfering  thefts  which  thin  the  woods  and  tithe  the 
ploughed  lands  and  meadows  and  vineyards  became 
habitual  in  this  valley,  and  soon  existed  as  a  right 
throughout  the  districts  of  Blangy,  Conches,  and  Cer- 
neux,  all  adjacent  to  the  domain  of  Les  Aigues.  This 
sore,  for  certain  reasons  which  will  be  given  in  due  time, 
did  far  greater  injur}-  to  Les  Aigues  than  to  the  estates 
of  Ronquerolles  or  Soulanges.  You  must  not,  however, 
fancy  that  Tonsard,  his  wife  and  children,  and  his  old 
mother  ever  deliberately  said  to  themselves,  "  We  will 
live  by  theft,  and  commit  it  as  cleverly  as  we  can." 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  59 

Such  habits  grow  slowl}'.  To  the  dried  sticks  they 
added,  in  tlie  first  instance,  a  single  bit  of  good  wood ; 
then,  emboldened  b}'  habit  and  a  carefully  prepared  im- 
munity (necessary  to  plans  which  this  history  will  un- 
fold), they  ended  at  last  in  cutting  "  their  wood,"  and 
stealing  almost  their  entire  livelihood.  Pasturage  for 
the  cows  and  the  abuses  of  gleaning  were  established 
as  customs  little  by  little.  When  the  Tonsards  and  the 
do-nothings  of  the  valley  had  tasted  the  sweets  of  these 
four  rights  (thus  captured  b}^  rural  paupers,  and  amount- 
ing to  actual  robbery)  we  can  easily  imagine  they  would 
never  give  them  up  unless  compelled  by  a  power  greater 
than  their  own  audacitj'. 

At  the  time  when  this  history  begins  Tonsard,  then 
about  fifty  3'ears  of  age,  tall  and  strong,  rather  stout 
than  thin,  with  curly  black  hair,  skin  highly  colored  and 
marbled  like  a  brick  with  purple  blotches,  3-ellow  whites 
to  the  eyes,  large  ears  with  broad  flaps,  a  muscular 
frame,  encased,  however,  in  flabby  flesh,  a  retreating 
forehead,  and  a  hanging  lip,  —  Tonsard,  such  as  you 
see  him,  hid  his  real  character  under  an  external  stu- 
pidity*, lightened  at  times  b}'  a  show  of  experience,  which 
seemed  all  the  more  intelligent  because  he^had  acquired 
in  the  company  of  his  father-in-law  a  sort  of  bantei-ing 
talk,  much  affected  by  old  Fourchon  and  Vermichel. 
His  nose,  flattened  at  the  end  as  if  the  finger  of  God 
intended  to  mark  him,  gave  him  a  voice  which  came 
from  his  palate,  like  that  of  all  persons  disfigured  b}'  a 
disease  which  thickens  the  nasal  passages,  through 
which  the  air  then  passes  with  diflScult}'.  His  upper 
teeth  overlapped  each  other,  and  this  defect  (which 
Lavater  calls  terrible)  was  all  the  more  apparent 
because  the}'  were  as  white  as  those  of  a  dog.     But 


60  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

for  a  certain  lawless  and  slothful  good  humor,  and  the 
free-and-eas}' wa^'s  of  a  rustic  tippler,  the  man  would 
have  alarmed  the  least  observing  of  spectators. 

If  the  portraits  of  Tonsard,  his  inn,  and  his  father-in- 
law  take  a  prominent  place  in  this  history,  it  is  because 
that  place  belongs  to  him  and  to  the  inn  and  to  the 
famil3\  In  the  first  place,  their  existence,  so  minutely 
described,  is  the  type  of  a  hundred  other  households  in 
the  valley  of  Les  Aigues.  Secondly,  Tonsard,  without 
being  other  than  the  instrument  of  deep  and  active 
hatreds,  had  an  immense  influence  on  the  struggle  that 
was  about  to  take  place,  being  the  friend  and  counsellor 
of  all  the  complainants  of  the  lower  classes.  His  inn, 
as  we  shall  presently  see,  was  the  rendezvous  for  the 
aggressors ;  in  fact,  he  became  their  chief,  partly  on 
account  of  the  fear  he  inspired  throughout  the  valley  — 
less,  however,  by  his  actual  deeds  than  hy  those  that 
were  constantly  expected  of  him.  The  threat  of  this 
man  was  as  much  dreaded  as  the  thing  threatened,  so 
that  he  never  had  occasion  to  execute  it. 

Every  revolt,  open  or  concealed,  has  its  banner. 
The  banner  of  the  marauders,  the  drunkards,  the  idlers, 
the  sluggards  of  the  valley  des  Aigues  was  the  terrible 
tavern  of  the  Grand-I-Vert.  Its  frequenters  found 
amusement  there,  —  as  rare  and  much-desired  a  thing 
in  the  country  as  in  a  city.  Moreover,  there  was  no 
other  inn  along  the  country-road  for  over  twelve  miles, 
a  distance  which  convej'ances  (even  when  laden)  could 
easily  do  in  three  hours  ;  so  that  those  who  went  from 
Conches  to  Ville-aux-Fayes  always  stopped  at  the 
Grand-I-Vert,  if  only  to  refresh  themselves.  The  miller 
of  Les  Aigues,  who  was  also  assistant-mayor,  and  his 
men  came  there.     The  grooms  and  valets  of  the  gen- 


I 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  61 


eral  were  not  averse  to  Tonsard's  wine,  rendered  at- 
tractive by  Tonsard's  daughters ;  so  the  Grand-I-Vert 
held  subterraneous  comniunicatiou  with  the  chateau 
through  the  servants,  and  knew  immediately  everything 
that  they  knew.  It  is  impossible  either  b}'  benefits  or 
through  their  own  self-interests,  to  break  up  the  perpet- 
ual understanding  th^t  exists  between  the  servants  of 
a  household  and  the  people  from  whom  the}'  come. 
Domestic  service  is  of  the  masses,  and  to  the  masses 
it  will  ever  remain  attached.  This  fatal  comradeship 
explains  the  reticence  of  the  last  words  of  Charles  the 
groom,  as  he  and  Blondet  reached  the  portico  of  the 
chateau. 


62  iSons  of  the  Soil, 


lY. 

ANOTHER  IDYL. 

"  Ha  !  by  mj^  pipe,  papa  ! "  exclaimed  Tonsard,  seeing 
his  father-in-law  as  the  old  man  entered  and  supposing 
him  in  quest  of  food,  ''  your  stomach  is  lively  this  morn- 
ing !  We  have  n't  anything  to  give  3'ou.  How  about 
that  rope,  —  the  rope,  you  know,  3'ou  were  to  make  for 
us?  It  is  amazing  how  much  3'ou  make  over  niglit  and 
how  little  there  is  made  in  the  morning!  You  ought 
long  ago  to  have  twisted  the  one  that  is  to  twist  3'ou  out 
of  existence  ;  you  are  getting  too  costly  for  us." 

The  wit  of  a  peasant  or  laborer  is  very  Attic ;  it 
consists  in  speaking  out  his  mind  and  giving  it  a 
grotesque  expression.  We  find  the  same  thing  in  a 
drawing-room.  Delicacy  of  wit  takes  the  place  of 
picturesque  vulgarity,  and  that  is  really  all  the  differ- 
ence there  is. 

*'  That  *s  enough  for  the  father-in-law  !  "  said  the  old 
man.     ''  Talk  business  ;  I  want  a  bottle  of  the  best." 

So  sajing,  Fourchon  rapped  a  five-franc  piece  that 
gleamed  in  his  hand  on  the  old  table  at  which  he  was 
seated,  —  which,  with  its  coating  of  grease,  its  scorched 
black  marks,  its  wine  stains,  and  its  gashes,  was  singu- 
lar to  behold.  At  the  sound  of  coin  Marie  Tonsard, 
as  trig  as  a  sloop  about  to  start  on  a  cruise,  glanced 
at  her  grandfather  with  a  covetous  look  that  shot  from 
her  eyes  like  a  s[)ark.  La  Tonsard  came  out  of  her 
bedroom,  attracted  by  the  music  of  metal. 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  63 

*»  You  are  always  rough  to  my  poor  father,"  she  said 
to  her  husband,  "and  yet  he  has  earned  a  deal  of 
mone}^  this  year ;  God  grant  he  came  by  it  honestly. 
Let  me  see  that,"  she  added,  springing  at  the  coin  and 
snatching  it  from  Fourchon's  fingers. 

"  Marie,"  said  Tonsard,  gravely,  "  above  the  board 
you  '11  find  some  bottled  wine.     Go  and  get  a  bottle." 

Wine  is  of  onl}'  one  qualit}^  in  the  country,  but  it  is 
sold  as  of  two  kinds,  —  cask  wine  and  bottled  wine. 

*' Where  did  you  get  this,  papa?"  demanded  La 
Tonsard,  slipping  the  coin  into  her  pocket. 

"  Philippine  !  you  '11  come  to  a  bad  end,"  said  the  old 
man,  shaking  his  head  but  not  attempting  to  recover 
his  money.  Doubtless  he  had  long  realized  the  futility 
of  a  struggle  between  his  daughter,  his  terrible  son-in- 
law,  and  himself 

**  Another  bottle  of  wine  for  which  you  get  five  francs 
out  of  me,"  he  added,  in  a  peevish  tone.  "  But  it  shall 
be  the  last.  I  shall  give  my  custom  to  the  Cafe  de  la 
Paix." 

''  Hold  your  tongue,  papa ! "  remarked  his  fair  and 
fat  daughter,  who  bore  some  resemblance  to  a  Roman 
matron.  ''You  need  a  shirt,  and  a  pair  of  clean 
trousers,  and  a  hat ;  and  I  want  to  see  you  with  a 
waistcoat.     That's  what  I  take  the  mone}'  for." 

*'  I  have  told  you  again  and  again  that  such  things 
would  ruin  mo,"  said  the  old  man.  '*  People  would 
think  me  rich  juid  stop  giving  me  anything." 

The  bottle  brought  by  Marie  put  an  end  to  the  lo- 
quacity of  the  old  man,  who  was  not  without  that  trait, 
characteristic  of  those  whose  tongues  are  ready  to  tell 
out  everything,  and  who  shrink  from  no  expression  of 
their  thought,  no  matter  how  atrocious  it  may  be. 


64  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

'*  Then  you  don't  want  to  tell  where  3-011  filched  that 
money?"  said  Tonsard.  "  We  might  go  and  get  more 
where  that  came  from,  —  the  rest  of  us." 

He  was  making  a  snare,  and  as  he  finished  it  the  fero- 
cious innkeeper  happened  to  glance  at  his  father-in-law's 
trousers,  and  there  he  spied  a  raised  round  spot  which 
clearly  defined  a  second  five-franc  piece. 

"  Having  become  a  capitalist  I  drink  3'our  health," 
said  Pere  Fourchon. 

*'If  3^ou  choose  to  be  a  capitalist  3-0U  can  be,"  said 
Tonsard;  "  3'ou  have  the  means,  3'ou  have!  But  the 
devil  has  bored  a  hole  in  the  back  of  3'our  head  through 
which  everything  runs  out." 

' '  He3' !  I  onl3'  played  the  otter  trick  on  that  3'oung 
fellow  the3'  have  got  at  Les  Aigues.  He  's  from  Paris. 
That 's  all  there  is  to  it." 

'*  If  crowds  of  people  would  come  to  see  the  sources 
of  the  Avonne,  you'd  be  rich,  Grandpa  Fourchon," 
said  Marie. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  drinking  the  last  glassful  the  bottle 
contained,  "  and  I  've  played  the  sham  otter  so  long, 
the  live  otters  have  got  angr3-,  and  one  of  them  came 
right  between  my  legs  to-day ;  Mouche  caught  it,  and 
I  am  to  get  twent3-  francs  for  it." 

"  I  '11  bet  3^our  otter  is  made  of  tow,"  said  Tonsard, 
looking  sl3'l3'  at  his  father-in-law. 

''  If  3-0U  will  give  me  a  pair  of  trousers,  a  waistcoat, 
and  some  list  braces,  so  as  not  to  disgrace  Vermicliel 
on  the  music  stand  at  Tivoli  (for  old  Socquard  is  always 
scolding  about  my  clothes),  I  '11  let  you  keep  that  money, 
m3'  daughter  ;  3'our  idea  is  a  good  one.  I  can  squeeze 
that  rich  3'oung  fellow  at  Les  Aigues ;  may  be  he  '11 
take  to  otters." 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  66 

*'  Go  and  get  another  bottle,"  said  Tonsard  to  his 
daughter.  "If  your  father  really  had  an  otter,  he 
would  show  it  to  us,"  he  added,  speaking  to  his  wife 
and  trying  to  touch  up  Fourchon. 

"I'm  too  much  afraid  it  would  get  into  your  frying- 
pan,"  said  the  old  man,  winking  one  of  his  little  green 
eyes  at  his  daughter.  "  Philippine  has  already  hooked 
'  my  five-franc  piece  ;  and  how  many  more  have  n't  you 
bagged  under  pretence  of  clothing  me  and  feeding  me? 
and  now  you  say  that  my  stomach  is  too  lively,  and  that 
I  go  half-naked." 

"You  sold  3'our  last  clothes  to  drink  boiled  wine  at 
the  Cafe  de  la  Paix,  papa,"  said  his  daughter,  "  though 
Vermichel  tried  to  prevent  it." 

"  Vermichel !  the  man  I  treated  !  Vermichel  is  inca- 
pable of  betraying  my  friendship.  It  must  have  been 
that  lump  of  old  lard  on  two  legs  that  he  is  not  ashamed 
to  call  his  wife  !  " 

"  He  or  she,"  replied  Tonsard,  "  or  Bonnebault." 

"If  it  was  Bonnebault,"  cried  Fourchon,  "he 
who  is  one  of  the  pillars  of  the  place,  I'll  —  I'll  — 
Enough ! " 

"  You  old  sot,  what  has  all  that  got  to  do  with  hav- 
ing sold  your  clothes  ?  You  sold  them  because  you  did 
sell  them  ;  you  're  of  age  !  "  said  Tonsard,  slapping  the 
old  man's  knee.  "  Come,  do  honor  to  my  drink  and 
redden  up  your  throat !  The  father  of  Mara  Tonsard  has 
a  right  to  do  so ;  and  is  n't  that  better  than  spending 
your  silver  at  Socquard's  ?  " 

"  AVhat  a  shame  it  is  that  you  have  been  fifteen  years 
playing  for  people  to  dance  at  Tivoli  and  30U  have  never 
yet  found  out  how  Socquard  cooks  his  wine,  —  you  who 
are  so  shrewd !  "  said  his  daughter ;  "  and  yet  you  know 

6 


66  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

very  well  that  if  we  had  the  secret  we  should  soon  get 
as  rich  as  Rigou." 

Throughout  the  Morvan,  and  in  that  region  of  Bur- 
gundy which  lies  at  its  feet  on  the  side  toward  Paris, 
this  boiled  wine  with  which  Mam  Tonsard  reproached 
her  father  is  a  rather  costly  beverage  which  plays  a 
great  part  in  the  life  of  the  peasantry,  and  is  made  b}' 
all  grocers  and  wine-dealers,  and  wherever  a  drinking- 
shop  exists.  This  precious  liquor,  made  of  choice 
wine,  sugar,  and  cinnamon  and  other  spices,  is  preferable 
to  all  those  disguises  or  mixtures  of  brand}'  called  ratafia, 
one-hundred-and-seven,  brave  man's  cordial,  black  cur- 
rant wine,  vespetro,  spirit-of-sun,  etc.  Boiled  wine  is 
found  throughout  France  and  Switzerland.  Among  the 
Jura,  and  in  the  wild  districts  trodden  only  by  a  few 
special  tourists,  the  innkeepers  call  it,  on  the  word  of 
commercial  travellers,  the  wine  of  Syracuse.  Excellent 
it  is,  however,  and  their  guests,  hungry  as  hounds  after 
ascending  the  surrounding  peaks,  very  gladly  pay  three 
and  four  francs  a  bottle  for  it.  In  the  homes  of  the 
Morvan  and  in  Burgundy  the  least  illness  or  the  slight- 
est agitation  of  the  nerves  is  an  excuse  for  boiled  wine. 
Before  and  after  childbirth  the  women  take  it  with 
the  addition  of  burnt  sugar.  Boiled  wine  has  soaked 
up  the  property  of  many  a  peasant,  and  more  than 
once  the  seductive  liquid  has  been  the  cause  of  marital 
chastisement. 

"Ha!  there's  no  chance  of  grabbing  that  secret," 
replied  Fourchon,  "  Socquard  always  locks  himself 
in  when  he  boils  his  wine ;  he  never  told  how  he 
does  it  to  his  late  wife.  He  sends  to  Paris  for  his 
materials." 

"  Don't  plague  your  father,"  cried  Tonsard  ;  "  does  n't 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  67 

he  know?  well,  then,  he  doesn't  know!     People  can't 
know  everything ! " 

Fourchon  grew  very  uneasy  on  seeing  how  his  son-in- 
law's  countenance  softened  as  well  as  his  words. 

"  What  do  you  want  to  rob  me  of  now?"  he  asked, 
candidl3\ 

"I?"  said  Tonsard,  "I  take  none  but  mj^  legitimate 
dues ;  if  I  get  an3'thing  from  3'ou  it  is  in  pajment  of 
your  daughter's  portion,  which  you  promised  me  and 
have  never  paid." 

Fourchon,  reassured  b}-  the  harshness  of  this  remark, 
dropped  his  head  on  his  breast  as  though  vanquished 
and  convinced. 

*'  Look  at  that  pretty  snare,"  resumed  Tonsard,  com- 
ing up  to  his  father-in-law  and  laying  the  trap  upon  his 
knee.     "  Some  of  these  da3's  tliey  '11  want  game  at  Les\ 
Aigues,  and  we  shall  sell  them  their  own,  or  there  will 
be  no  good  God  for  the  poor  folks." 

*' A  fine  piece  of  work,"  said  the  old  man.  examin- 
ing the  mischievous  machine. 

*'  It  is  ver3'  well  to  pick  up  the  sous  now,  papa," 
said  Mam  Tonsard,  "but  you  know  we  are  to  have 
our  share  in  the  cake  of  Les  Aigues." 

*'0h,  what  chatterers  women  are!"  cried  Tonsard. 
"  If  I  am  hanged  it  won't  be  for  a  shot  from  m3'  gun, 
but  for  the  gabble  of  3-our  tongue." 

"  And  do  3'ou  really  suppose  that  Les  Aigues  will  be 
cut  up  and  sold  in  lots  for  3'our  pitiful  benefit?"  asked 
Fourchon.  "  Pshaw  !  have  n't  3'ou  discovered  in  the  last 
thirt3'  years  that  old  Rigou  has  been  sucking  the  marrow 
out  of  your  bones  that  the  middle-class  folks  are  worse 
than  the  lords?  Mark  my  words,  when  that  affair  hap- 
pens, my  children,   the  Soudrys,  the  Gaubertins,  the 


68  Sons  of  the  SoiL 

Rigous,  will  make  j'ou  kick  your  heels  in  the  air.  '  I  Ve 
the  good  tobacco,  it  never  shall  be  thine,'  that's  the 
national  air  of  the  rich  man,  hej'?  The  peasant  will 
always  be  the  peasant.  Don't  you  see  (but  you  never 
did  understand  anything  of  politics !)  that  government 
puts  such  lieav}'  taxes  on  wine  only  to  hinder  our  profits 
and  keep  us  poor  ?  The  middle  classes  and  the  govern- 
ment, they  are  all  one.  What  would  become  of  them  if 
everybod}^  was  rich?  Could  they  till  their  fields? 
Would  the}'  gather  the  harvest?  No,  they  want  the 
poor !  I  was  rich  for  ten  3'ears  and  I  know  what  I 
thought  of  paupers." 

*'  Must  hunt  with  them,  though,"  replied  Tonsard, 
**  because  they  mean  to  cut  up  the  great  estates  ;  after 
that 's  done,  we  can  turn  against  them.  If  I  'd  been 
Courtecuisse,  whom  that  scoundrel  Rigou  is  ruining, 
I  'd  have  long  ago  paid  his  bill  with  other  balls  than  the 
poor  fellow  gives  him." 

*'  Right  enough,  too,"  replied  Fourchon.  "As  Pere 
Niseron  says  (and  he  stayed  republican  long  after 
everybody  else),  '  The  people  are  tough ;  they  doil't 
die  ;  they  have  time  before  them.' " 

Fourchon  fell  into  a  sort  of  revery  ;  Tonsard  profited 
by  his  inattention  to  take  back  the  trap,  and  as  he  took 
it  up  he  cut  a  slip  below  the  coin  in  his  father-in-law's 
pocket  at  a  moment  when  the  old  man  raised  his  glass 
to  his  lips ;  then  he  set  his  foot  on  the  five-franc  piece 
as  it  dropped  on  the  earthen  floor  just  where  it  was 
always  kept  damp  by  the  heel-taps  which  the  customers 
flung  from  their  glasses.  Though  quickly  and  lightly 
done,  the  old  man  might,  perhaps,  have  felt  the  theft, 
if  Vermichel  had  not  happened  to  appear  at  that 
moment. 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  69 

*' Tonsard,   do  3-011  know  where  your  father  is?" 
lied  that  functionary  from  the  foot  of  the  steps. 
fVermichel's  shout,  the  theft  of  the  money,  and  the 
iptying  of  old  Fourchon's  glass,  were  simultaneous. 

Present,  captain  ! "  cried  Fourchon,  holding  out  a 
id  to  Vermichel  to  help  him  up  the  steps. 
If  all  Burgundian  figures,  Vermichel  would  have 
Seemed  to  you  the  most  Burgundian.  The  practitioner 
was  not  red,  he  was  scarlet.  His  face,  like  certain 
tropical  portions  of  the  globe,  was  fissured,  here  and 
there,  with  small  extinct  volcanoes,  defined  by  flat  and 
greenish  patches  which  Fourchon  called,  not  unpoeti- 
cally,  the  '*  flowers  of  wine."  This  fiery  face,  the  feat- 
ures of  which  were  swelled  out  of  shape  by  continual 
drunkenness,  looked  cyclopic  ;  for  it  was  lighted  on  the 
right  side  by  a  gleaming  eye,  and  darkened  on  the  other 
by  a  yellow  patch  over  the  left  orb.  Red  hair,  always 
tousled,  and  a  beard  like  that  of  Judas,  made  Ver- 
michel as  formidable  in  appearance  as  he  was  meek  in 
reality.  His  prominent  nose  looked  like  an  interroga- 
tion-mark, to  which  the  wide-slit  mouth  seemed  to  be 
always  answering,  even  when  it  did  not  open.  Ver- 
michel, a  short  man,  wore  hob-nail  shoes,  bottle-green 
velveteen  trousers,  an  old  waistcoat  patched  with  di- 
verse stuffs  which  seemed  to  have  been  originallj^  made 
of  a  counterpane,  a  jacket  of  coarse  blue  cloth  and  a 
gra\'  hat  with  a  broad  brim.  All  this  luxury,  required 
b}^  the  town  of  Soulanges  where  Vermichel  fulfilled  the 
combined  functions  of  porter  at  the  town-hall,  drummer, 
jailer,  musician,  and  practitioner,  was  taken  care  of  by 
Madame  Vermichel,  an  alarming  antagonist  of  Rabelai- 
sian philosophy.  This  virago  with  moustachios,  about 
one  yard  in  width  and  one  hundred  and  twenty  kilo- 


70  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

grams  in  weight  (but  very  active),  ruled  Vermiehel 
with  a  rod  of  iron.  Thrashed  b}'  her  wlien  drunk,  he 
allowed  her  to  thrash  him  still  when  sober ;  which 
caused  Pere  Fourchon  to  say,  with  a  sniff  at  Vermichel's 
clothes,  "It  is  the  livery  of  a  slave." 

*'  Talk  of  the  sun  and  j'ou  '11  see  its  beams,"  cried 
Fourchon,  repeating  a  well-worn  allusion  to  the  rutilant 
face  of  Vermiehel,  which  really  did  resemble  those 
copper  suns  painted  on  tavern  signs  in  the  provinces. 
"  Has  Mam  Vermiehel  spied  too  much  dust  on  3'our 
back,  that  3  ou 're  running  away  from  3'our  four-fifths, 
—  for  I  can't  call  her  3^our  better  half,  that  woman! 
What  brings  3'ou  here  at  this  hour,  drum-major?" 

"Politics,  always  poUtics,"  replied  Vermiehel,  who 
seemed  accustomed  to  such  pleasantries. 

"Ah!  business  is  bad  in  Blang3',  and  there'll  be 
notes  to  protest,  and  writs  to  issue,"  remarked  Pere 
Fourchon,  filling  a  glass  for  his  friend. 

"  That  ape  of  ours  is  right  behind  nie,"  replied  Ver- 
miehel, with  a  backward  gesture. 

In  workmen's  slang  "  ape  "  meant  master.  The  word 
belonged  to  the  dictionary  of  the  worthy  pair. 

"What's  Monsieur  Brunet  coming  bothering  about 
here  ?  "  asked  Tonsard. 

"  Hey,  by  the  powers,  you  folks  !  "  said  Vermiehel, 
"3^ou've  brought  him  in  for  the  last  three  3'ears  more 
than  you  are  worth.  Ha !  that  master  at  Les  Aigues, 
he  has  his  e3'e  upon  you  ;  he  '11  punch  you  in  the  ribs  ; 
he's  after  3^ou,  the  Shopman!  Brunet  sa3's,  if  there 
were  three  such  landlords  in  the  valle3'  his  fortune  would 
be  made." 

"  What  new  harm  are  they  going  to  do  to  the  poor?" 
asked  Marie. 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  71 

*'A  pretty  wise  thing  for  themselves,"  replied  Ver- 
michel.  *'  Faith !  3'ou  '11  have  to  give  in,  in  the  end. 
How  can  you  help  it  ?  They  've  got  the  power.  For  the 
last  two  years  have  n't  the}^  had  three  foresters  and  a 
horse-patrol,  all  as  active  as  ants,  and  a  field-keeper 
who  is  a  terror?  Besides,  the  gendarmerie  is  ready  to 
do  their  dirt}^  work  at  any  time.    They  '11  crush  you  —  " 

*'Bah!"  said  Tonsard,  '*  we  are  too  flat.  That 
which  can't  be  crushed  is  n't  the  trees,  it 's  ground." 

'*  Don't  3'ou  trust  to  that,"  said  Fourchon  to  his  son- 
in-law  ;  "  you  own  property." 

*'  Those  rich  folks  must  love  3'ou,"  continued  Ver- 
michel,  "for  they  think  of  nothing  else  from  morning 
till  night !  The}-  are  saying  to  themselves  now  like 
this :  '  Their  cattle  eat  up  our  pastures ;  we  '11  seize 
their  cattle  ;  they  can't  eat  grass  themselves.'  You  've 
all  been  condemned,  the  warrants  are  out,  and  they  have 
told  our  ape  to  take  your  cows.  We  are  to  begin  this 
morning  at  Conches  by  seizing  old  mother  Bonnebault's 
cow  and  Godin's  cow  and  Mitant's  cow. 

The  moment  the  name  of  Bonnebault  was  mentioned, 
Marie,  who  was  in  love  with  the  old  woman's  grandson, 
sprang  into  the  vinej-ard  with  a  nod  to  her  father  and 
mother.  She  slipped  like  an  eel  through  a  break  in  the 
hedge,  and  was  off  on  the  way  to  Conches  with  the 
speed  of  a  hunted  hare. 

"They'll  do  so  much,"  remarked  Tonsard,  tranquilly, 
*'  that  they  '11  get  their  bones  broken  ;  and  that  will  be  a 
pit}',  for  their  mothers  can't  make  them  anj'  new  ones." 

''  Well,  perhaps  so,"  said  old  Fourchon,  "  but  see 
here,  Vermichel,  I  can't  go  with  you  for  an  hour  or 
more,  for  I  have  important  business  at  the  chateau." 

"  More   important  than  serving  three  warrants  at 


72  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

five  sous  each?  '  You  should  n't  spit  mto  the  vintage,* 
as  Father  Noah  says." 

"  I  tell  3'ou,  Vermichel,  that  m}^  business  requires 
me  to  go  to  the  chateau  des  Aigues,"  repeated  the  old 
man,  with  an  air  of  laughable  self-importance. 

*■*'  And  anyhow,"  said  Mam  Tonsard,  "  my  father  had 
better  keep  out  of  the  way.  Do  you  really  mean  to 
find  the  cows?" 

*'  Monsieur  Brunet,  who  is  a  very  good  fellow,  would 
much  rather  find  nothing  but  their  dung,"  answered 
Vermichel.  ' '  A  man  who  is  obliged  to  be  out  and 
about  day  and  night  had  better  be  careful." 

"  If  he  is,  he  has  good  reason  to  be,"  said  Tonsard, 
sententiously. 

''So,"  continued  Vermichel,  "he  said  to  Monsieur 
Michaud,  '  I  '11  go  as  soon  as  the  court  is  up.'  If 
he  had  wanted  to  find  the  cows  he  'd  have  gone  at 
seven  o'clock  in  the  morning.  But  that  did  n't  suit 
Michaud,  and  Brunet  has  had  to  be  off".  You  can't 
take  in  Michaud,  he 's  a  trained  hound !  Ha,  the 
brigand ! " 

*'  Ought  to  have  stayed  in  the  arm}-,  a  swaggerer 
like  that,"  said  Tonsard;  "he  is  only  fit  to  deal  with 
enemies.  I  wish  he  would  come  and  ask  me  my  name. 
He  may  call  himself  a  veteran  of  the  young  guard,  but 
I  know  very  well  that  if  I  measured  spurs  with  him, 
I'd  keep  my  feathers  up  longest."  1 

"Look  here!"  said  Mam  Tonsard  to  Vermichel, 
"  when  are  the  notices  for  the  ball  at  Soulanges  com- 
ing out?     Here  it  is  the  eighth  of  August." 

"  I  took  them  yesterday  to  Monsieur  Bournier  at 
Ville-aux-Fayes,  to  be  printed,"  replied  Vermichel; 
"they  do  talk  of  fireworks  on  the  lake." 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  73 

'"What  crowds  of  people  we  shall  have!"  cried 
Foiirchon. 

' '  Profits  for  Socquard  !  "  said  Tonsard,  spitefully. 

*' If  it  doesn't  rain,"  said  his  wife,  by  way  of 
comfort. 

At  this  moment  the  trot  of  a  horse  coming  from  the 
direction  of  Soulanges  was  heard,  and  five  minutes 
later  the  sheriffs  officer  fastened  his  horse  to  a  post 
placed  for  the  purpose  near  the  wicket  gate  through 
which  the  cows  were  driven.  Then  he  showed  his  head 
at  the  door  of  the  Grand- 1- Vert. 

''  Come,  my  boys,  let's  lose  no  time,"  he  said,  pre- 
tending to  be  in  a  hurry. 

*'Hey!"  said  Vermichel.  "Here's  a  refractory, 
Monsieur  Brunet ;  Pere  Fourchon  wants  to  drop  off." 

''He  has  had  too  many  drops  already,"  said  the 
sheriff ;  ' '  but  the  law  in  this  case  does  not  require  that 
he  shall  be  sober." 

"Please  excuse  me.  Monsieur  Brunet,"  said  Four- 
chon, "I  am  expected  at  Les  Aigues  on  business  ;  they 
are  in  treaty  for  an  otter." 

Brunet,  a  withered  little  man  dressed  from  head  to 
foot  in  black  cloth,  with  a  bilious  skin,  a  furtive  eye, 
curly  hair,  lips  tight-drawn,  pinched  nose,  anxious 
expression,  and  gruff  in  speech,  exhibited  the  phenom- 
enon of  a  character  and  bearing  in  perfect  harmony 
with  his  profession.  He  was  so  well-informed  as  to 
the  law,  or,  to  speak  more  correctly,  the  quibbles  of 
the  law,  that  he  had  come  to  be  both  the  terror  and  the 
counsellor  of  the  whole  canton.  He  was  not  without  a 
certain  popularity  among  the  pcasantr}',  from  whom  he 
usually  took  his  pay  in  kind.  The  compound  of  his 
active  and  negative  qualities  and  his  knowledge  of  how 


74  Sons  of  the  Soil 

to  manage  matters  got  him  the  custom  of  the  canton,  to 
the  exclusion  of  his  coadjutor  Plissoud,  about  whom 
we  shall  have  something  to  sa}^  later.  This  chance 
combination  of  a  sheriffs  officer  who  does  everything 
and  a  sheriff's  officer  who  does  nothing  is  not  at  all 
uncommon  in  the  country  justice  courts. 

*'So  matters  are  getting  warm,  are  they?"  said 
Tonsard  to  little  Brunet. 

"What  can  you  expect?  3'ou  pilfer  the  man  too 
much,  and  he  's  going  to  protect  himself,"  replied  the 
officer.  ' '  It  will  be  a  bad  business  for  you  in  the  end  ; 
government  will  interfere." 

''  Then  we,  poor  unfortunates,  must  give  up  the 
ghost ! "  said  Mam  Tonsard,  offering  him  a  glass  of 
brandy  on  a  saucer. 

"The  unfortunate  may  all  die,  j^et  they'll  never  be 
lacking  in  the  land,"  said  Fourchon,  sententiously." 

"  You  do  great  damage  to  the  woods,"  retorted  the 
sheriff. 

"Now  don't  believe  that,  Monsieur  Brunet,"  said 
Mam  Tonsard;  ''they  make  such  a  fuss  about  a  few 
miserable  fagots ! " 

"  We  didn't  crush  the  rich  low  enough  during  the 
Revolution,  that's  what's  the  trouble,"  said  Tonsard. 

Just  then  a  horrible,  and  quite  incomprehensible 
noise  was  heard.  It  seemed  to  be  a  rush  of  hurried 
feet,  accompanied  with  a  rattle  of  arms,  half-drowned 
by  the  rustling  of  leaves,  the  dragging  of  branches, 
and  the  sound  of  still  more  hasty  feet.  Two  voices,  as 
different  as  the  two  footsteps,  were  venting  noisy  ex- 
clamations. Ever^^body  inside  the  inn  guessed  at  once 
that  a  man  was  pursuing  a  woman ;  but  why  ?  The 
uncertainty  did  not  last  long. 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  75 

*'It  is  mother!"  said  Tonsard,  jumping  np ;  '*I 
know  her  shriek." 

Then  suddenly,  rushing  up  the  broken  steps  of  the 
Grand-I-Vert  by  a  last  effort  that  can  be  made  only 
by  the  sinews  of  smugglers,  old  Motlier  Tonsard  fell 
flat  on  the  floor  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  The  im- 
mense mass  of  wood  she  carried  on  her  head  made  a 
terrible  noise  as  it  crashed  against  the  top  of  the 
door  and  then  upon  the  ground.  Every  one  had 
jumped  out  of  the  wa}'.  The  table,  the  bottles,  the 
chairs  were  knocked  over  and  scattered.  The  noise 
was  as  great  as  if  the  cottage  itself  had  come  tum- 
bling down. 

''  I  *m  dead  !     The  scoundrel  has  killed  me  !  " 

The  words  and  the  flight  of  the  old  woman  were 
explained  by  the  apparition  on  the  threshold  of  a 
keeper,  dressed  in  green  livery,  wearing  a  hat  edged 
with  silver  cord,  a  sabre  at  his  side,  a  leathern  shoul- 
der-belt bearing  the  arms  of  Montcornet  charged  with 
those  of  the  Troisvilles,  the  regulation  red  waistcoat, 
and  buckskin  gaiters  which  came  above  the  knee. 

After  a  moment's  hesitation  the  keeper  said,  looking 
at  Brunet  and  Vermichel,  "  Here  are  witnesses." 

*'  Witnesses  of  what?  "  said  Tonsard. 

*'  That  woman  has  a  ten  year-old  oak,  cut  into  logs, 
inside  those  fagots  ;  it  is  a  regular  crime  !  " 

The  moment  the  word  *' witness"  was  uttered  Ver- 
michel thought  best  to  breathe  the  fresh  air  of  the 
vineyard. 

"  Of  what?  witnesses  of  what  ?  "  cried  Tonsard,  stand- 
ing in  front  of  the  keeper  while  his  wife  helped  up  the 
old  woman.  "Do  you  mean  to  show  3'our  claws,  Vatel? 
Accuse  persons  and  arrest  them  on  the  highway,  brig- 


76  Sons  qf  the  Soil. 

and, — that's  your  domain;  but  get  out  of  here  !  A 
man's  house  is  his  castle." 

' '  I  caught  her  in  the  act,  and  your  mother  must 
come  with  me." 

"Arrest  my  mother  in  my  house?  You  have  no 
right  to  do  it.  My  house  is  inviolable,  —  all  the  world 
knows  that,  at  least.  Have  you  got  a  warrant  from 
Monsieur  Guerbet,  the  magistrate  ?  Ha !  you  must 
have  the  law  behind  you  before  you  come  in  here. 
You  are  not  the  law,  though  you  have  sworn  an  oath  to 
starve  us  to  death,  you  miserable  forest-gauger,  you ! " 

The  fury  of  the  keeper  waxed  so  hot  that  he  was  on 
the  point  of  seizing  hold  of  the  wood,  when  the  old 
woman,  a  frightful  bit  of  black  parchment  endowed 
with  motion,  the  like  of  which  can  be  seen  only  in 
David's  picture  of  ''  The  Sabines,"  screamed  at  him, 
*'  Don't  touch  it,  or  I  '11  fly  at  your  eyes  !  " 

*'  Well,  then,  undo  that  pile  in  presence  of  Monsieur 
Brunet,"  said  the  keeper. 

Though  the  sheriflTs  officer  had  assumed  the  indiffer- 
ence that  the  routine  of  business  does  really  give  to 
officials  of  his  class,  he  threw  a  glance  at  Tonsard  and 
his  wife  which  said  plainly,  "A  bad  business!"  Old 
Fourchon  looked  at  his  daughter,  and  slyly  pointed  at  a 
pile  of  ashes  in  the  chimney.  Mam  Tonsard,  who  un- 
derstood in  a  moment  from  that  significant  gesture  both 
the  danger  of  her  mother-in-law  and  the  advice  of  her 
father,  seized  a  handful  of  ashes  and  flung  them  in  the 
keeper's  eyes.  Vatel  roared  with  pain  ;  Tonsard  pushed 
him  roughly  upon  the  broken  door-steps  where  the 
blinded  man  stumbled  and  fell,  and  then  rolled  nearly 
down  to  the  gate,  dropping  his  gun  on  the  way.  In  an 
instant  the  load  of  sticks  was  unfastened,  and  the  oak 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  77 

logs  pulled  out  and  hidden  with  a  rapidity  no  words 
can  describe.  Brunet,  anxious  not  to  witness  this 
manoeuvre,  which  he  readily  foresaw,  rushed  after  the 
keeper  to  help  him  up ;  then  he  placed  him  on  the  bank 
and  wet  his  handkerchief  in  water  to  wash  the  eyes  of 
the  poor  fellow,  who,  in  spite  of  his  agony,  was  trying  to 
reach  the  brook. 

'*  You  are  in  the  wrong,  Yatel,"  said  Brunet ;  ''  you 
have  no  right  to  enter  houses,  don't  you  see?  '* 

The  old  woman,  a  little  hump-backed  creature,  stood 
on  the  sill  of  the  door,  with  her  hands  on  her  hips, 
darting  flashes  from  her  ej-es  and  curses  from  her 
foaming  lips  shrill  enough  to  be  heard  at  Blang}'. 

"Ha!  the  villain,  'twas  well  done!  May  hell  get 
you !  To  suspect  me  of  cutting  trees  !  —  me^  the 
most  honest  woman  in  the  village.  To  hunt  me  like 
vermin !  1  'd  like  to  see  you  lose  your  cursed  ej'es, 
for  then  we'd  have  peace.  You  are  birds  of  ill-omen, 
the  whole  of  you ;  3'ou  invent  shameful  stories  to  stir 
up  strife  between  3'our  master  and  us." 

The  keeper  allowed  the  sheriff  to  bathe  his  e3'es  and 
all  the  while  the  latter  kept  telling  him  that  he  was 
legally'  wrong. 

"The  old  thief!  she  has  tired  us  out,"  said  Vatel 
at  last.  "  She  has  been  at  work  in  the  woods  all  night." 

As  the  whole  family  had  taken  an  active  hand  in  hiding 
the  live  wood  and  putting  things  straight  in  the  cottage, 
Tonsard  presently-  appeared  at  the  door  with  an  insolent 
air.  "  Vatcl,  m}'  man,  if  you  ever  again  dare  to  force 
your  way  into  m^''  domicile,  m}'  gun  shall  answer  3011," 
he  said.  "  To-da3' you  have  had  the  ashes;  the  next 
time  3-ou  shall  have  the  fire.  You  don't  know  your 
own  business.     That 's  enough.     Now  if  you  feel  hot 


78  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

after  this  affair  take  some  wine,  I  offer  it  to  j'ou ;  and 
you  ma}^  come  in  and  see  that  m}^  old  mother's  bundle 
of  fagots  had  n't  a  scrap  of  live  wood  in  it ;  it  is  every 
bit  brushwood." 

"Scoundrel!"  said  the  keeper  to  the  sheriff,  in  a 
low  voice,  more  enraged  by  this  speech  than  by  the 
smart  of  his  e3'es. 

Just  then  Charles,  the  groom,  appeared  at  the  gate 
of  the  Grand-I-Vert. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Vatel?  "  he  said. 

"Ah!"  said  the  keeper,  v;iping  his  ej'es,  which  he 
had  plunged  wide  open  into  the  rivulet  to  give  them 
a  final  cleansing.  ' '  I  have  some  debtors  in  there  that 
I  '11  cause  to  rue  the  day  the}^  saw  the  light." 

"  If  you  take  it  that  way.  Monsieur  Vatel,"  said 
Tonsard,  coldly,  "you  will  find  we  don't  want  for 
courage  in  Burgundy." 

Vatel  departed.  Not  feeling  much  curiosity  to  know 
what  the  trouble  was,  Charles  went  up  the  steps  and 
looked  into  the  house. 

"  Come  to  the  chateau,  you  and  your  otter,  —  if  30U 
really  have  one,"  he  said  to  Pere  Fourehon. 

The  old  man  rose  hurriedly  and  followed  him. 

"Well,  where  is  it,  —  that  otter  of  yours?"  said 
Charles,  smiling  doubtfully. 

"  This  way,"  said  the  old  fellow,  going  toward  the 
Thune. 

The  name  is  that  of  a  brook  formed  b}-  the  overflow 
of  the  mill-race  and  of  certain  springs  in  the  park  of 
Les  Aigues.  It  runs  by  the  side  of  the  county  road 
as  far  as  the  lakelet  of  Soulanges,  which  it  crosses, 
and  then  falls  into  the  Avonne,  after  feeding  the  mills 
and  ponds  on  the  Sculanges  estate. 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  79 

*'  Here  it  is  ;  I  hid  it  in  the  brook,  with  a  stone  round 
its  neck." 

As  he  stooped  and  rose  again  the  old  man  missed 
the  coin  out  of  his  pocket,  where  metal  was  so  un- 
common that  he  was  likely  to  notice  its  presence  or 
its  absence  immediatel3^ 

''Ah,  the  sharks  !  "  he  cried.  "  If  I  hunt  otters 
they  hunt  fathers-in-law !  They  get  out  of  me  all  I 
earn,  and  tell  me  it  is  for  my  good !  If  it  were  not  for 
my  poor  Mouche,  who  is  the  comfort  of  my  old  age, 
I  'd  drown  myself.  Childi^n  !  they  are  the  ruin  of  their 
fathers.  You  have  n't  m.arried,  have  you.  Monsieur 
Charles?  Then  don't;  never  get  married,  and  then 
you  can't  reproach  yourself  for  spreading  bad  blood. 
I,  who  expected  to  buy  my  tow  with  that  money,  and 
there  it  is  filched,  stolen !  That  monsieur  up  at  Les 
Aigues,  a  fine  3'oung  fellow,  gave  me  ten  francs ;  ha ! 
well !  it  '11  put  up  the  price  of  m}^  otter  now." 

Charles  distrusted  the  old  man  so  profoundly  that 
he  took  his  grievances  (this  time  very  sincere)  for  the 
preliminary  of  what  he  called,  in  servant's  slang,  "  var- 
nish," and  he  made  the  great  mistake  of  letting  his 
opinion  appear  in  a  satirical  grin,  which  the  spiteful 
old  fellow  detected. 

"  Come,  come !  Pere  Fourchon,  now  behave  your- 
self; you  are  going  to  see  Madame,"  said  Charles, 
noticing  how  the  rubies  flashed  on  the  nose  and  cheeks 
of  the  old  drunkard. 

"I  know  how  to  attend  to  business,  Charles ;  and 
the  proof  is  that  if  you  will  get  me  out  of  the  kitchen 
the  remains  of  the  breakfast  and  a  bottle  or  two  of 
Spanish  wine,  I  '11  tell  30U  something  which  will  save 
3^ou  from  a  '  foul.'  '* 


80  Sons  of  the  Soil, 

"  Tell  me,  and  FranQois  shall  get  Monsieur's  own 
order  to  give  you  a  glass  of  wine,"  said  the  groom. 

*' Promise?" 

*'  I  promise." 

*'  Well  then,  I  know  you  meet  my  granddaughter 
Catherine  under  the  bridge  of  the  Avonne.  Godain  is 
in  love  with  her ;  he  saw  you,  and  he  is  fool  enough 
to  be  jealous,  —  I  say  fool,  for  a  peasant  ought  n't  to 
have  feelings  which  belong  only  to  rich  folks.  If  you 
go  to  the  ball  of  Soulanges  at  Tivoli  and  dance  with 
her,  you  '11  dance  higher  than  3'ou  '11  like.  Godain  is 
rich  and  dangerous  ;  he  is  capable  of  breaking  j'our 
arm  without  your  getting  a  chance  to  arrest  him." 

*'  That  would  be  too  dear;  Catherine  is  a  fine  girl, 
but  she  is  not  worth  all  that,"  replied  Charles.  **  Why 
should  Godain  be  so  angrj-?  others  are  not." 

"  He  loves  her  enough  to  marr}'  her." 

"  If  he  does,  he  '11  beat  her,"  said  Charles. 

**  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  the  old  man.  *'  She 
takes  after  her  mother,  against  whom  Tonsard  never 
raised  a  finger,  —  he  's  too  afraid  she  'd  be  off,  hot  foot. 
A  woman  who  knows  how  to  hold  her  own  is  mighty 
useful.  Besides,  if  it  came  to  fisticuflfs  with  Catherine, 
Godain,  though  he  's  pretty  strong,  would  n't  give  the 
last  blow." 

"  Well,  thank  3'ou,  Pere  Fourchon ;  here 's  forty 
sous  to  drink  my  health  in  case  I  can't  get  3'OU  the 
sherr3\" 

Pere  Fourchon  turned  his  head  aside  as  he  pocketed 
the  money  lest  Charles  should  see  the  expression  of 
amusement  and  sarcasm  which  he  was  unable  to 
repress. 

"Catherine,"  he  resumed,  "is  a  proud  minx;  she 

I 


{Sons  of  the  Soil.  81 

likes  shern'.  You  hud  better  tell  her  to  go  and  get  it 
at  Les  Aigues." 

Charles  looked  at  Pere  Fourchon  with  naive  admira- 
tion, not  suspecting  the  eager  interest  tlie  general's  ene- 
mies took  in  slipping  one  more  spy  into  the  chateau. 

' '  The  general  ought  to  feel  happy  now,'*  continued 
Fourchon;  "  the  peasants  are  all  quiet.  What  does  he 
sa}^?     Is  he  satisfied  with  Sibilet?  " 

"It  is  only  Monsieur  Michaud  who  finds  fault  with 
Sibilet.     They  say  he  '11  get  him  sent  away." 

"  Professional  jealous}^ ! "  exclaimed  Fourchon.  "  I  '\\ 
bet  you  would  like  to  get  rid  of  Fran9oi3  and  take  his 
place." 

*'  Hang  it !  he  has  twelve  hundred  francs  wages/' 
said  Charles  ;  "  but  they  can't  send  him  oflT,  —  he  knows 
the  general's  secrets." 

''  Just  as  Madame  Michaud  knows  the  countess's,'* 
remarked  Fourchon,  watching  the  other  carefull}^ 
"  Look  here,  my  boy,  do  you  know  whether  Monsieur 
and  Madame  have  separate  rooms  ?  " 

"  Of  course  ;  if  they  did  n't.  Monsieur  would  n't  be 
so  fond  of  Madame." 

*'  Is  that  all  30U  know?"  said  Fourchon. 

As  they  were  now  before  the  kitchen  windows  noth- 
ing more  was  said. 


82  iSons  of  the  Soil, 


ENEMIES  FACE   TO  FACE. 

While  breakfast  was  in  progress  at  the  chateau, 
Fran9ois,  the  head  footman,  whispered  to  Blondet,  but 
loud  enough  for  the  general  to  overhear  him,  — 

*'  Monsieur,  Pere  Fourchon's  boy  is  here ;  he  saj'S 
they  have  caught  the  otter,  and  wants  to  know  if  you 
would  like  it,  or  whether  they  shall  take  it  to  the  sub- 
prefect  at  Ville-aux-Fayes." 

Emile  Blondet,  though  himself  a  past-master  of  hoax- 
ing, could  not  keep  his  cheeks  from  blushing  like  those 
of  a  virgin  who  hears  an  indecorous  story  of  which  she 
knows  the  meaning. 

"  Ha!  ha!  so  yoxx  have  hunted  the  otter  this  morn- 
ing with  Pere  Fourchon?"  cried  the  general,  with  a 
roar  of  laughter. 

"  What  is  it?  "  asked  the  countess,  uneasy  at  her 
husband's  laugh. 

*•'  When  a  man  of  his  wit  and  intelligence  is  taken  in 
by  old  Fourchon,"  continued  the  general,  "a  retired 
cuirassier  need  not  blush  for  having  hunted  that  otter ; 
which  bears  an  enormous  resemblance  to  the  third  post- 
horse  we  are  made  to  pay  for  and  never  see."  With 
that  he  went  off  into  further  explosions  of  laughter,  in 
the  midst  of  which  he  contrived  to  say:  "I  am  not 
surprised  you  had  to  change  your  boots  —  and  your 
trousers ;  I  have  no  doubt  you   have  been  wading ' 


Som  of  the  Soil,  83 

The  joke  did  n't  go  so  far  as  that  with  me,  —  I  sta3Td 
on  the  bank ;  but  then,  you  know,  you  are  so  much 
more  intelligent  than  I  —  " 

"But  you  forget,"  interrupted  Madame  de  Mont- 
cornet,  ''  that  I  do  not  know  what  you  are  talking 
of." 

At  these  words,  said  with  some  pique,  the  general 
grew  serious,  and  Blondet  told  the  story  of  his  fishing 
for  the  otter. 

"  But  if  they  really  have  an  otter,"  said  the  countess, 
'*  those  poor  people  are  not  to  blame." 

''  Oh,  but  it  is  ten  years  since  an  otter  has  been  seen 
about  here,"  said  the  pitiless  general. 

"Monsieur    le   comte,"    said    Francois,    "the   boy 
swears  by  all  that 's  sacred  that  he  has  got  one." 
"  If  they  have  one  I  '11  buy  it,"  said  the  general. 
"  I  don't  suppose,"  remarked  the  Abbe  Brossette, 
"  that  God  has  condemned  Les  Aigues  to  never  have 
otters." 

"  Ah!  Monsieur  le  cure!  "  cried  Blondet,  "  if  you 
bring  the  Almightj^  against  me  —  " 

"But  what  is  all  this?  Who  is  here?"  said  the 
countess,  hastil3\ 

"  Mouche,  madame,  — the  boy  who  goes  about  with 
old  Fourchon,"  said  the  footman. 

"  Bring  him  in  —  that  is,  if  Madame  will  allow  it?  " 
said  the  general;  "  he  may  amuse  3'ou." 

Mouche  presentl}'  appeared,  in  his  usual  state  of  com- 
parative nudity.  Beholding  this  personification  of  pov- 
erty in  the  middle  of  this  luxurious  dining-room,  the 
cost  of  one  panel  of  which  would  have  been  a  fortune  to 
the  bare-legged,  bare- breasted,  and  bare-headed  child, 
it  was  impossible  not  to  be  moved  by  an  impulse  of 


84  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

charity.  The  bo3''s  eyes,  like  blazing  coals,  gazed  first 
at  the  luxuries  of  the  room,  and  then  at  those  on  the 
table. 

"  Have  you  no  mother?  "  asked  Madame  de  Montcor- 
net,  unable  otherwise  to  explain  the  child's  nakedness. 

"  No  ma'am  ;  m'ma  died  of  grief  for  losing  p'pa,  who 
went  to  the  arm}'  in  1812  without  marrying  her  with 
papers,  and  got  frozen,  saving  your  presence.  But 
I've  my  Grandpa  Fourchon,  who  is  a  good  man, — 
though  he  does  beat  me  bad  sometimes." 

"  How  is  it,  my  dear,  that  such  wretched  people  can 
be  found  on  your  estate?"  said  the  countess,  looking  at 
the  general. 

"Madame  la  comtesse,"  said  the  abbe,  "  in  this  dis- 
trict we  have  none  but  voluntar}^  paupers.  Monsieur 
le  comte  does  all  he  can ;  but  we  have  to  do  with  a 
class  of  persons  who  are  without  religion  and  who  have 
but  one  idea,  that  of  living  at  your  expense." 

''  But,  my  dear  abbe,"  said  Blondet,  "  you  are  here  to 
improve  their  morals." 

''  Monsieur,"  replied  the  abbe,  "my  bishop  sent  me 
here  as  if  on  a  mission  to  savages ;  but,  as  I  had  the 
honor  of  telling  him,  the  savages  of  France  cannot  be 
reached.  They  make  it  a  law  unto  themselves  not  to 
listen  to  us ;  whereas  the  church  does  get  some  hold  on 
the  savages  of  America." 

''  M'sieur  le  cure,  they  do  help  me  a  bit  now,"  re- 
marked Mouche  ;  ''  but  if  I  went  to  your  church  they 
would  fi't,  and  the  other  folks  would  make  game  of  my 
breeches.'* 

"  Religion  ought  to  begin  by  giving  him  trousers,  my 
dear  abbe,"  said  Blondet.  "  In  your  foreign  missions 
don't  you  begin  by  coaxing  the  savages  ?  " 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  85 

"  He  would  soon  sell  them/'  answered  the  abb^,  in 
a  low  tone  ;  "  besides,  my  salary  does  not  enable  me  to 
begin  on  that  line." 

"  Monsieur  le  cure  is  right,"  said  the  general,  looking 
at  Mouche. 

The  policy  of  the  little  scamp  was  to  appear  not  to 
hear  what  they  were  saying  when  it  was  against  him- 
self. 

"The  boy  is  intelligent  enough  to  know  good  from 
evil,"  continued  the  count,  "  and  he  is  old  enough  to 
work ;  yet  he  thinks  of  nothing  but  how  to  commit  evil 
without  being  found  out.  All  the  keepers  know  him. 
He  is  very  well  aware  that  the  master  of  an  estate  may 
witness  a  trespass  on  his  property  and  yet  have  no 
right  to  arrest  the  trespasser.  I  have  known  him  keep 
his  cows  boldly  in  my  meadows,  though  he  knew  I  saw 
him ;  but  now,  ever  since  I  have  been  mayor,  he  runs 
away  fast  enough." 

*'  Oh,  that  is  very  wrong,"  said  the  countess  ;  "  3'ou 
should  not  take  other  people's  things,  my  little  man." 

"Madame,  we  must  eat.  My  grandpa  gives  me 
more  slaps  than  food,  and  they  don't  fill  my  stomach, 
slaps  don't.  When  the  cows  come  in  I  milk  'em  just 
a  little  and  I  live  on  that.  Monseigneur  is  n't  so  poor 
but  what  he  '11  let  me  drink  a  drop  o'  milk  the  cows  get 
from  his  grass  ?  '* 

"  Perhaps  he  hasn't  eaten  anything  to-day,"  said  the 
countess,  touched  by  his  miser}'.  "  Give  him  some 
bread  and  the  rest  of  that  chicken ;  let  him  have  his 
breakfast,"  she  added,  looking  at  the  footman.  "  Where 
do  you  sleep,  my  child  ?  " 

"Anywhere,  madame  ;  under  the  stars  in  summer, 
and  wherever  they  '11  let  us  in  winter." 


86  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

"  How  old  are  you?  " 

"Twelve." 

"There  is  still  time  to  bring  him  up  to  better  ways/ 
said  the  countess  to  her  husband. 

"  He  will  make  a  good  soldier,"  said  the  general, 
gruffly;  "he  is  well  tougliened.  I  went  thi'ough  that 
kind  of  thing  myself,  and  here  I  am." 

"  Excuse  me,  general,  I  don't  belong  to  nobody," 
said  the  boy,  "  I  can't  be  drafted.  My  poor  mother 
was  n't  married,  and  I  was  born  in  a  field.  I'm  a  son 
of  the  airth,  as  grandpa  says.  M'ma  saved  me  from 
the  arm}',  that  she  did !  My  name  ain't  no  more 
Mouche  than  nothing  at  all.  Grandpa  keeps  telHng  me 
all  my  advantages.  I  'm  not  on  the  register,  and  when 
I  'm  old  enough  to  be  drafted  I  can  go  all  over  France  , 
and  the}^  can't  take  me."  | 

"  Are  you  fond  of  your  grandfather?  "  said  the  coun-  "' 
tess,  trying  to  look  into  the  child's  heart. 

"  My !  does  n't  he  box  my  ears  when  he  feels  like  it ! 
but  then,  after  all,  he 's  such  fun ;  he 's  such  good 
company  !  He  says  he  pays  himself  that  way  for  having 
taught  me  to  read  and  write."  I 

"  Can  you  read?"  asked  the  count. 

"  Yah,  I  should  think  so,  Monsieur  le  comte, 
and  fine  writing  too — just  as  true  as  we've  got  that 
otter." 

"Read  that,"  said  the  count,  giving  him  a  news- 
paper." 

"The  Qu-o-ti-dienne,"  read  Mouche,  hesitating  only 
three  times. 

Ever}'  one,  even  the  abbe,  laughed. 

"Why  do  you  make  me  read  that  newspaper?" 
cried  Mouche,  angrily.     "  My  grandpa  says  it  is  made 


I 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  87 

up  to  please  the  rich,  and  everybody  knows  later  just 
what 's  in  it." 

f     ''The  child  is  right,  general,"   said  Blondet ;    "and 
he  makes  me  long  to  see  my  hoaxing  friend  again." 

Moiiche  understood  perfectly  that  he  was  posing  for 
the  amusement  of  the  company ;  the  pupil  of  Pere 
Fourchon  was  worthy  of  his  master,  and  he  forthwith 
began  to  cry. 

''How  can  you  tease  a  child  with  bare  feet?"  said 
the  countess. 

"And  who  thinks  it  quite  natural  that  his  grand- 
father should  recoup  himself  for  his  education  by  box- 
ing his  ears,"  said  Blondet. 

"Tell  me,  my  poor  little  fellow,  have  you  really 
caught  an  otter." 

"  Yes,  madame  ;  as  true  as  that  you  are  the  prettiest 
lad}'  I  have  seen,  or  ever  shall  see,"  said  the  child, 
wiping  his  eyes. 

"Then  show  me  the  otter,"  said  the  general. 

"  Oh  M'sieur  le  comte,  my  grandpa  has  hidden  it ; 
but  it  was  kicking  still  when  we  were  at  work  at  the 
rope-walk.  Send  for  my  grandpa,  please  ;  he  wants  to 
«ell  it  to  you  himself." 

"  Take  him  into  the  kitchen,"  said  the  countess  to 
Francois,  "  and  give  him  his  breakfast,  and  send 
Charles  to  fetch  Pere  Fourchon.  Find  some  shoes, 
and  a  pair  of  trousers  and  a  waistcoat  for  the  poor 
child ;  those  who  come  here  naked  must  go  away 
clothed." 

"May  God  bless  you,  my  beautiful  lady,"  said 
Mouehe,  departing.  "M'sieur  le  cure  may  feel  quite 
sure  that  I  '11  keep  the  things  and  wear  *em  fete-days, 
because  3'ou  give  'em  to  me." 


88  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

Emile  and  Madame  Montcornet  looked  at  each  other 
with  some  surprise,  and  seemed  to  say  to  the  abbe, 
''  The  boy  is  not  a  fool!  " 

"It  is  quite  true,  raadame,"  said  the  abbe  after  the 
child  had  gone,  "  that  we  cannot  reckon  with  Poverty. 
I  believe  it  has  hidden  excuses  of  which  God  alone  can 
judge,  —  physical  excuses,  often  congenital ;  moral  ex- 
cuses, born  in  the  character,  produced  by  an  order  of 
things  that  are  often  the  result  of  quaUties  which,  un- 
happily for  society,  have  no  vent.  Deeds  of  heroism 
performed  upon  the  battle-field  ought  to  teach  us  that 
the  worst  scoundrels  may  become  heroes.  But  here  in 
this  place  you  are  living  under  exceptional  circum- 
stances ;  and  if  your  benevolence  is  not  controlled  by 
reflection  and  judgment  you  run  the  risk  of  supporting 
3'our  enemies." 

"  Our  enemies?  "  exclaimed  the  countess. 

"  Cruel  enemies,"  said  the  general,  gravely. 

"  Pere  Fourchon  and  his  son-in-law  Tonsard,"  said  the 
abbe,  "  are  the  strength  and  the  inteUigence  of  the  lower 
classes  of  this  valley,  who  consult  them  on  all  occasions. 
The  Machiavelism  of  these  people  is  beyond  belief. 
Ten  peasants  meeting  in  a  tavern  are  the  small  change 
of  great  political  questions." 

Just  then  Fran9ois  announced  Monsieur  Sibilet. 

"He  is  m}^  minister  of  finance,"  said  the  general, 
smiling;  "ask  him  in.  He  will  explain  to  you  the 
gravity  of  the  situation,"  he  added,  looking  at  his  wife 
and  Blondet. 

"  Because  he  has  reasons  of  his  own  for  not  conceal- 
ing it,"  said  the  cure,  in  a  low  tone. 

Blondet  then  beheld  a  personage  of  whom  he  liad 
heard  much  ever  since  his  arrival,  and  whom  he  desired 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  89 

to  know,  tbe  land-steward  of  Les  Aigues.  He  saw  a 
man  of  medium  height,  about  thirty  jears  of  age,  with  a 
sulky  look  and  a  discontented  face,  on  which  a  smile 
sat  ill.  Beneath  an  anxious  brow  a  pair  of  greenish 
eyes  evaded  the  eyes  of  others,  and  so  disguised  their 
thouorht.  Sibilet  was  dressed  in  a  brown  surtout  coat, 
black  trousers  and  waistcoat,  and  wore  his  hair  long 
and  flat  to  the  head,  which  gave  him  a  clerical  look. 
His  trousers  barely  concealed  that  he  was  knock-kneed. 
Though  his  paUid  complexion  and  flabby  flesh  gave  the 
impression  of  an  unhealthy  constitution,  Sibilet  was 
really  robust.  The  tones  of  his  voice,  which  were  a  lit- 
tle thick,  harmonized  with  this  unflattering  exterior. 

Blondet  gave  a  hasty  look  at  the  abbe,  and  the  glance 
with  which  the  young  priest  answered  it  showed  the 
journalist  that  his  own  suspicions  about  the  steward 
were  certainties  to  the  curate. 

''  Did  not  you  tell  me,  my  dear  Sibilet,"  said  the  gen- 
eral, "  that  30U  estimate  the  value  of  what  the  peasants 
steal  from  us  at  a  quarter  of  the  whole  revenue?  " 

"  Much  more  than  that,  Monsieur  le  comte,"  replied 
the  steward.  *'The  poor  about  here  get  more  from 
your  property  than  the  State  exacts  in  taxes.  A  little 
scamp  like  Mouche  can  glean  his  two  bushels  a  day. 
Old  women,  whom  you  would  really  think  at  their^last 
gasp,  become  at  the  harvest  and  vintage  times  as  active 
and  healthy  as  girls.  You  can  witness  that  phenome- 
non very  soon,"  said  Sibilet,  addressing  Blondet,  '*  for 
the  harvest,  wiiich  was  put  back  by  the  rains  in  July 
will  begin  next  week,  when  they  cut  the  rye.  The 
gleaners  must  have  a  certificate  of  pauperism  from  the 
mayor  of  the  district,  and  no  district  should  allow  any 
one  to  glean  except  the  paupers ;  but  the  districts  of 


90  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

one  canton  do  glean  in  those  of  another  without  certifi- 
cate. If  we  have  sixt}'  real  paupers  in  our  district, 
there  are  at  least  forty  others  who  could  support  them- 
selves if  they  were  not  so  idle.  Even  persons  who  have 
a  business  leave  it  to  glean  in  the  fields  and  in  the  vine- 
yards. All  these  people,  taken  together,  gather  in  this 
neighborhood  something  like  three  hundred  bushels  a 
day ;  the  harvest  lasts  two  weeks,  and  that  makes  four 
thousand  five  hundred  bushels  in  this  district  alone. 
The  gleaning  takes  more  from  an  estate  than  the  taxes. 
As  to  the  abuse  of  pasturage,  it  robs  us  of  fully  one- 
sixth  of  the  produce  of  the  meadows  ;  and  as  to  that  of 
the  woods,  it  is  incalculable,  —  thej'  have  actualh'  come 
to  cutting  down  six-year-old  trees.  The  loss  to  you, 
Monsieur  le  comte,  amounts  to  fully  twentj^-odd  thou- 
sand francs  a  j-ear." 

"  Do  3^ou  hear  that,  madame?  "  said  the  general  to  his 
wife. 

"Is  it  not  exaggerated?"  asked  Madame  de  Mont- 
cornet. 

"No,  madame,  unfortunately  not,"  said  the  abbe. 
"  Poor  Niseron,  that  old  fellow  with  the  white  head,  who 
combines  the  functions  of  bell-ringer,  beadle,  grave- 
digger,  sexton,  and  clerk,  in  defiance  of  his  repubhcan 
opirftons,  —  I  mean  the  grandfather  of  the  little  Gene- 
vieve whom  3'ou  placed  with  Madame  Michaud  —  " 

"  La  Pechina,"  said  Sibilet,  interrupting  the  abb^. 

"  Pechina !  "    said    the    countess,    "whom    do    you 


mean 


?" 


•  "  Madame  la  comtesse,  when  you  met  little  Genevieve 
on  the  road  in  a  miserable  condition,  3'ou  cried  out  in 
Itahan,  *  Piccina !  *  The  word  became  a  nickname, 
and  is   now   corrupted  all  through  the   district    into 


1 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  91 

Pechina,"  said  the  abbe.  "The  poor  girl  comes  to 
church  with  Madame  Michaud  and  Madame  Sibilet." 

"  And  she  is  none  the  better  for  it,"  said  Sibilet  *'for 
the  others  ill-treat  her  on  account  of  her  religion." 

"  Well,  that  poor  old  man  of  seventy  gleans,  honestly, 
about  a  bushel  and  a  half  a  day,"  continued  the  priest ; 
"  but  his  natural  uprightness  prevents  him  from  selling 
his  gleanings  as  others  do, — he  keeps  them  for  his  own 
consumption.  Monsieur  Langlume,  your  miller,  grinds 
his  flour  gratis  at  mj^  request,  and  my  servant  bakes 
his  bread  with  mine." 

"  I  had  quite  forgotten  my  little  protegee,"  said  the 
countess,  troubled  at  Sibilet's  remark.  *'  Your  arri- 
val," she  added  to  Blondet,  "  has  quite  turned  my  head. 
But  after  breakfast  I  will  take  you  to  the  gate  of  the 
Avonne  and  show  you  the  living  image  of  those  women 
whom  the  painters  of  the  fifteenth  century  delighted  to 
perpetuate." 

The  sound  of  Pere  Fourchon's  broken  sabots  was 
now  heard  ;  after  depositing  them  in  the  antechamber, 
he  was  brought  to  the  door  of  the  dining-room  b}^  Fran- 
9ois.  At  a  sign  from  the  countess,  Francois  allowed 
him  to  pass  in,  followed  by  Mouche  with  his  mouth  full 
and  carrying  the  otter,  hanging  by  a  string  tied  to  its 
yellow  paws,  webbed  like  those  of  a  palmipe(f  He 
cast  upon  his  four  superiors  sitting  at  table,  and  also 
upon  Sibilet,  that  look  of  mingled  distrust  and  servility 
which  serves  as  a  veil  to  the  thoughts  of  the  peasantry  ; 
then  he  brandished  his  amphibian  with  a  triumphant  air. 

''  Here  it  is  !  "  he  cried,  addressing  Blondet. 

*'  My  otter  ! "  returned  the  Parisian,  '*  and  well  paid 
for." 

*'  Oh,  my  dear  gentleman,"  replied  Pere  Fourchon, 


92  Sons  of  the  Soil 

*' yours  got  away;  she  is  now  in  her  burrow,  and  she 
won't  come  out,  for  slie  's  a  female,  —  this  is  a  male  ; 
Mouche  saw  him  coming  just  as  you  went  away.  As 
true  as  you  live,  as  true  as  that  Monsieur  le  comte  cov- 
ered himself  and  his  cuirassiers  with  glorj'  at  Waterloo, 
the  otter  is  mine,  just  as  much  as  Les  Aigues  belongs 
to  Monseigneur  the  general.  But  the  otter  is  yours 
for  twenty  francs  ;  if  not  I  'II  take  it  to  the  sub-prefect. 
If  Monsieur  Gourdon  thinks  it  too  dear,  then  I  '11  give 
you  the  preference ;  that 's  only  fair,  as  we  hunted  to- 
gether this  morning." 

*'  Twenty  francs  !  "  said  Blondet.  "  In  good  French 
3'ou  can't  call  that  giving  the  preference." 

''Hey,  my  dear  gentlemen,"  cried  the  old  fellow. 
"  Perhaps  I  don't  know  French,  and  I  '11  ask  it  in  good 
Burgundian  ;  as  long  as  I  get  the  money,  I  don't  care, 
I'll  talk  Latin :  latinus^  latina^  latinum!  Besides, 
twenty  francs  is  what  you  promised  me  this  morning. 
M}'  children  have  already  stolen  the  silver  you  gave 
me  ;  I  wept  about  it,  coming  along,  —  ask  Charles  if  I 
didn't.  Not  that  I'd  arrest  'em  for  the  value  of  ten 
francs  and  have  'em  up  before  the  judge,  no  !  But  just 
as  soon  as  I  earn  a  few  pennies,  they  make  me  drink 
and  get  'em  out  of  me.  Ah  !  it  is  hard,  hard  to  be  re- 
duce(f  to  go  and  get  m}'  wine  elsewhere.  But  just  see 
what  children  are  in  these  daj's  !  That's  what  we  got 
by  the  Revolution ;  it  is  all  for  the  children  now-a- 
days,  and  parents  are  suppressed.  I'm  bringing  np 
Mouche  on  another  tack ;  he  loves  me,  the  little 
scamp,"  —  giving  his  grandson  a  poke. 

''  It  seems  to  me  you  are  making  him  a  little  thief, 
like  all  the  rest,"  said  Sibilet ;  "he  never  lies  down  at 
night  without  some  sin  on  his  conscience." 


I 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  93 


**  Ha !  Monsieur  Sibilet,  his  conscience  is  as  clean  as 
yours  any  day !  Poor  child  !  what  can  he  steal  ?  A 
little  grass  !  that 's  better  than  throttling  a  man  !  He 
don't  know  mathematics  like  you,  nor  subtraction,  nor 
addition,  nor  multiplication,  —  3'ou  are  very  unjust  to 
us,  that  you  are !  You  call  us  a  nest  of  brigands,  but 
you  are  the  cause  of  the  misunderstandings  between  our 
good  landlord  here,  who  is  a  worthy  man,  and  the  rest 
of  us,  who  are  all  worthj^  men,  —  there  ain't  an  honester 
part  of  the  country  than  this.  Come,  what  do  you 
mean?  do  I  own  propert}^?  don't  I  go  half-naked,  and 
Mouche  too?  Fine  sheets  we  sleep  in,  washed  by  the 
dew  ever}^  morning !  and  unless  you  want  the  air  we 
breathe  and  the  sunshine  we  drink,  I  should  like  to 
know  what  we  have  that  yon  can  take  away  from  us ! 
The  rich  folks  rob  as  they  sit  in  their  chimnej^-corners, 
—  and  more  profitably,  too,  than  by  picking  up  a  few 
sticks  in  the  woods.  I  don't  see  no  game-keepers  or 
patrols  after  Monsieur  Gaubertin,  who  came  here  as 
naked  as  a  worm  and  is  now  worth  his  millions.  It's 
easy  said,  '  Robbers  ! '  Here  's  fifteen  years  that  old 
Guerbet,  the  tax-gatherer  at  Soulanges,  carries  his 
money  along  the  roads  by  the  dead  of  night,  and  no- 
body ever  took  a  farthing  from  him  ;  is  that  like  a  land 
of  robbers?  Has  robber}^  made  us  rich?  Show  me 
which  of  us  two,  3'our  class  or  mine,  live  the  idlest  lives 
and  have  the  most  to  live  on  without  earning  it." 

*'If  you  were  to  work,"  said  the  abbe,  "  3'ou  would 
have  propeity.     God  blesses  labor." 

*'  I  don't  want  to  contradict  you,  M'sieur  I'abb^,  for 
you  are  wiser  than  I,  and  perhaps  you  '11  know  how  to 
explain  something  that  puzzles  me.  Now  see,  here  I 
am,  ain't  I?  —  that  drunken,  lazy,  idle,  good-for-nothing 


94  Sons  of  the  SoiL 

old  Fourchon,  who  had  an  education  and  was  a  farmer, 
and  got  down  in  the  mud  and  never  got  up  again,  — 
well,  what  difference  is  there  between  me  and  that  hon- 
est and  worthy  old  Niseron,  seventy  3'ears  old  (and 
that 's  my  age)  who  has  dug  the  soil  for  sixty  years  and 
got  up  every  da}'  before  it  was  light  to  go  to  his  work, 
and  has  made  himself  an  iron  body  and  a  fine  soul? 
Well,  isn't  he  as  bad  off  as  I  am?  His  little  grand- 
daughter, Pechina,  is  at  service  with  Madame  Michaud, 
whereas  ni}^  httle  Mouche  is  as  free  as  air.  So  that 
poor  good  man  gets  rewarded  for  his  virtues  in  exactly 
the  same  wa}'  that  I  get  punished  for  my  vices.  He 
don't  know  what  a  glass  of  good  wine  is,  he 's  as  sober 
as  an  apostle,  he  buries  the  dead,  and  I  —  I  play  for 
the  living  to  dance.  He  is  alwaj^s  in  a  peck  o'  troubles, 
while  I  shp  along  in  a  devil-may-care  way.  We  have 
come  along  about  even  in  life ;  we  've  got  the  same 
snow  on  our  heads,  tlie  same  funds  in  our  pockets,  and 
I  supply  him  with  rope  to  ring  his  bell.  He's  a  repub- 
lican and  I'm  not  even  a  publican,  —  that's  all  the  dif- 
ference as  far  as  I  can  see.  A  peasant  may  do  good  or 
do  evil  (according  to  your  ideas)  and  he  '11  go  out  of  the 
world  just  as  he  came  into  it,  in  rags  ;  while  you  wear 
the  fine  clothes." 

No  one  interrupted  Pere  Fourchon,  who  seemed  to 
owe  his  eloquence  to  his  potations.  At  first  Sibilet 
tried  to  cut  him  short,  but  desisted  at  a  sign  from 
Blondet.  The  abhe,  the  general,  and  the  countess, 
all  understood  from  the  expression  of  the  writer's 
eye  that  he  wanted  to  study  the  question  of  pauper- 
ism from  life,  and  perhaps  take  his  revenge  on  Pere 
Fourchon. 

"What  sort  of  education  are  3'ou  giving  Mouche?*' 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  95 

asked  Blondet.  '*  Do  j^ou  expect  to  make  him  any 
better  than  your  daughters  ?  " 

*' Does  he  ever  speak  to  him  of  God?"  said  the 
priest. 

''  Oh,  no,  no !  Monsieur  le  cure,  I  don't  tell  him  to 
fear  God,  but  men.  God  is  good  ;  he  has  promised  us 
poor  folks,  so  you  say,  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  because 
the  rich  people  keep  the  earth  to  tliem selves.  I  tell 
him :  '  Mouche  !  fear  the  prison,  and  keep  out  of  it,  — 
for  that 's  the  wa}^  to  the  scaffold.  Don't  steal  any- 
thing, make  people  give  it  to  you.  Theft  leads  to 
murder,  and  murder  brings  down  the  justice  of  men. 
The  razor  of  justice,  —  that  *s  what  you  've  got  to  fear ; 
it  lets  the  rich  sleep  easy  and  keeps  the  poor  awake. 
Learn  to  read.  Education  will  teach  you  ways  to  grab 
money  under  cover  of  the  law,  like  that  fine  Monsieur 
Gaubertin ;  why,  you  can  even  be  a  land-steward  like 
Monsieur  Sibilet  here,  who  gets  his  rations  out  of  Mon- 
sieur le  comte.  The  thing  to  do  is  to  keep  well  with 
the  rich,  and  pick  up  the  crumbs  that  fall  from  their 
tables.'  That's  what  I  call  giving  him  a  good,  solid 
education  ;  and  you  '11  alwa3's  find  the  little  rascal  on 
the  side  of  the  law,  —  he'll  be  a  good  citizen  and  take 
care  of  me." 

'*  What  do  3'ou  mean  to  make  of  him?"  asked 
Blondet. 

^'A  servant,  to  begin  with,"  returned  Fourchon, 
j"  because  then  lie  '11  see  his  masters  close  by,  and  learn 
something ;  he  '11  complete  his  education,  I  '11  warrant 
you.  Good  example  will  be  a  fortune  to  him,  with  the 
law  on  his  side  like  the  rest  of  you.  If  M'sieur  le 
comte  would  onl3'  take  him  in  his  stables  and  let  him 
learn   to  groom   the   horses,  the  boy  will  be   mighty 


96  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

pleased,  for  though  I've  taught  him  to  fear  men,  he 
don't  fear  animals." 

"  You  are  a  clever  fellow,  Pere  Fourchon,"  said 
Blondet ;  ' '  3^ou  know  what  3'ou  are  talking  about,  and 
there 's  sense  in  what  3'ou  sa3\" 

"  Oh,  sense?  no ;  I  left  m}^  sense  at  the  Grand-I-Vert 
when  I  lost  those  silver  pieces." 

"  How  is  it  that  a  man  of  3^our  capacity'  should  have 
dropped  so  low?  As  things  are  now,  a  peasant  can 
onl^^  blame  himself  for  his  povertj^ ;  he  is  a  free  man, 
and  he  can  become  a  rich  one.  It  is  not  as  it  used  to 
be.  If  a  peasant  lays  hy  his  money,  he  can  alwaj's  bu}' 
a  bit  of  land  and  become  his  own  master." 

*'I've  seen  the  olden  time  and  I've  seen  the  new, 
m}' dear  wise  gentleman,"  said  Fourchon;  "the  sign 
over  the  door  has  been  changed,  that's  true,  but  the 
"wine  is  the  same, — to-day  is  the  3'ounger  brother  of 
3'esterda3-,  that 's  all.  Put  that  in  3-our  newspaper !  Are 
•we  poor  folks  free  ?  We  still  belong  to  the  same  parish, 
[  and  its  lord  is  alwa3^s  there,  —  I  call  him  Toil.  The 
J  hoe,  our  sole  propert3',  has  never  left  our  hands.  Let 
it  be  the  old  lords  or  the  present  taxes  which  take  the 
best  of  our  earnings,  the  fact  remains  that  we  sweat  our 
lives  out  in  toil." 

"  But  y^ou  could  undertake  a  business,  and  tr3^  to 
make  3'our  fortune,"  said  Blondet. 

"  Tr3'  to  make  my  fortune  !  And  where  shall  I  tr3'? 
If  I  wish  to  leave  m3'  own  province,  I  must  get  a  pass- 
port, and  that  costs  fort3^  sous.  Here's  fort3^  3-ears 
that  I  've  never  had  a  slut  of  a  forty-sous  piece  jingling 
against  another  in  m3^  pocket.  If  you  want  to  travel 
3'OU  need  as  many  crowns  as  there  are  villages,  and 
there  are  might3'  few  Fourchons  who  have  enough  to 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  97 

get  to  six  of  'em.  It  is  onl}^  the  draft  that  gives  us  a 
chance  to  get  awa}'.  And  what  good  does  the  army  do 
us?  The  colonels  live  by  the  soldier,  just  as  the  rich 
folks  live  by  the  peasant ;  and  out  of  every  hundred  of 
'em  you  won't  find  more  than  one  of  our  breed.  It 
is  just  as  it  is  the  world  over,  one  rolling  in  riches,  for  a 
hundred  down  in  the  mud.  Why  are  we  in  the  mud? 
Ask  God  and  the  usurers.  The  best  we  can  do  is  to 
sta}"  in  our  own  parts,  where  we  are  penned  like  sheep 
])y  the  force  of  circumstances,  as  our  fathers  were  by 
the  rale  of  the  lords.  As  for  me,  what  do  I  care  what 
shackles  they  are  that  keep  me  here  ?  let  it  be  the  law 
of  public  necessity  or  the  tyranny  of  the  old  lords,  it  is 
all  the  same  ;  we  are  condemned  to  dig  the  soil  forever. 
There,  where  we  are  born,  there  we  dig  it,  that  earth ! 
and  spade  it,  and  manure  it,  and  delve  in  it,  for  you  who 
arc  born  rich  just  as  we  are  born  poor.  The  masses  will 
always  be  what  they  are,  and  stay  what  they  are.  The 
number  of  us  who  manage  to  rise  is  nothing  like  the 
number  of  you  who  topple  down  !  We  know  that  well 
enough,  if  we  have  no  education  !  You  must  n't  be  after 
us  with  your  sheriff  all  the  time,  —  not  if  you  're  wise. 
We  let  you  alone,  and  you  must  let  us  alone.  If  not, 
and  things  get  worse,  you  '11  have  to  feed  us  in  your  pris- 
ons, where  we  'd  be  much  better  off  than  in  our  homes. 
You  want  to  remain  our  masters,  and  we  shall  always 
be  enemies,  as  much  as  we  were  thirty  years  ago.  You 
have  everything,  we  have  nothing ;  you  can't  expect 
we  should  ever  be  friends."  ^ 

"That's  what  I  call  a  declaration  of  war,"  said  the 
general. 

"  Monseigneur,"  retorted  Fourchon,  "  when  Les 
Aigues  belonged  to  that  poor  Madame  (God  keep  her 

7 


98  Sons  of  the  Soil, 

soul  and  forgive  her  the  sins  of  her  youth !)  we  were 
happy.  She  let  us  get  our  food  from  the  fields  and 
our  fuel  from  the  forest ;  and  was  she  any  tlie  poorer 
for  it?  And  you,  who  are  at  least  as  rich  as  she,  30U 
hunt  us  like  wild  beasts,  neither  more  nor  less,  and 
drag  the  poor  before  the  courts.  Well,  evil  will  come 
of  it!  3'Ou'll  be  the  cause  of  some  great  calamitj'. 
Have  n't  I  just  seen  your  keeper,  that  shuffling  Vatel, 
half  kill  a  poor  old  woman  for  a  stick  of  wood  ?  It  is 
such  fellows  as  that  who  make  3'ou  an  enemj^  to  the 
poor;  and  the  talk  is  very  bitter  against  yon.  They 
curse  you  every  bit  as  hard  as  they  used  to  bless  the 
late  Madame.  The  curse  of  the  poor,  monseigneur,  is 
a  seed  that  grows,  —  grows  taller  than  your  tall  oaks, 
and  oak-wood  builds  the  scaffold.  Nobodj'  here  tells 
you  the  truth  ;  and  here  it  is,  yes,  the  truth  !  I  expect 
to  die  before  long,  and  I  risk  very  little  in  telhng  it  to 
you,  the  truth/  I,  who  play  for  the  peasants  to  dance 
at  the  great  fetes  at  Soulanges,  I  head  what  the  people 
say.  Well,  they  're  all  against  you  ;  and  the}-  '11  make 
it  impossible  for  you  to  sta}'  here.  If  that  damned 
Michaud  of  yours  does  n't  change,  the}' '11  force  you  to 
change  him.  There !  that  information  and  the  otter 
are  worth  twenty  francs,  and  more  too.'* 

As  the  old  fellow  uttered  the  last  words  a  man's  step 
was  heard,  and  the  individual  just  threatened  by  Four- 
chon  entered  unannounced.  It  was  eas}^  to  see  from 
the  glance  he  threw  at  the  old  man  that  the  threat  had 
reached  his  ears,  and  all  Fourchon's  insolence  sank  in  a 
moment.  The  look  produced  precisely  the  same  effect 
upon  him  that  the  eye  of  a  policeman  produces  on 
a  thief.  Fourchon  knew  he  was  wrong,  and  that 
Michaud    might    very    well    accuse    him    of    saying 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  99 

these  things  merely  to  terrify  the  inhabitants  of  Les 
Aigues. 

"This  is  the  minister  of  war,"  said  the  general  to 
Blondet,  nodding  at  Michaud. 

*'  Pardon  me,  madame,  for  having  entered  without 
asking  if  you  were  willing  to  receive  me,**  said  the  new- 
comer to  the  countess;  "but  I  have  urgent  reasons 
for  speaking  to  the  general  at  once." 

Michaud,  as  he  said  this,  took  notice  of  Sibilet, 
whose  expression  of  keen  delight  in  Fourchon's  dar- 
ing words  was  not  seen  by  the  four  persons  seated 
at  the  table,  because  the}'  were  so  preoccupied  by 
the  old  man  ;  whereas  Michaud,  who  for  secret  reasons 
watched  Sibilet  constantly,  was  struck  with  his  air  and 
manner. 

*'  He  has  earned  his  twenty  francs.  Monsieur  le 
comte,"  said  Sibilet;  "the  otter  is  fully  worth  it." 

"Give  him  twenty  francs,"  said  the  general  to  the 
footman. 

"Do  you  mean  to  take  my  otter  away  from  me?'' 
said  Blondet  to  the  general. 

"  I  shall  have  it  stuffed,"  replied  the  latter. 

"  Ah !  but  that  good  gentleman  said  I  might  keep 
the  skin,"  cried  Fourchon. 

"  Well,  then,"  exclaimed  the  countess,  hastil}',  "you 
shall  have  five  francs  more  for  the  skin ;  but  go  away 
now." 

The  powerful  odor  emitted  by  the  pair  made  the  din- 
ing-room so  horribly  offensive  that  Madame  de  Mont- 
cornet,  whose  senses  were  very  delicate,  would  have 
been  forced  to  leave  the  room  if  Fourchon  and  Mouche 
had  remaine(^.  To  this  circumstance  the  old  man  was 
indebted  for  his  t went}'- five  francs.     He  left  the  room 


100  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

with  a  timid  glance  at  Michaud,  making  him  an  inter- 
minable series  of  bows. 

"  What  I  was  saying  to  monseigneur,  Monsieur  Mi- 
chaud," he  added,  "  was  really-  for  3'our  good." 

"  Or  for  that  of  those  who  pa}-  you,"  replied  Michaud, 
with  a  searching  look. 

"  When  you  have  served  the  coffee,  leave  the  room," 
said  the  general  to  the  servants,  "and  see  that  the 
doors  are  shut." 

Blondet,  who  had  not  yet  seen  the  bailiff  of  Les 
Aigues,  was  conscious,  as  he  now  saw  him,  of  a  totally 
different  impression  from  that  conveyed  by  Sibilet. 
Just  as  the  steward  inspired  distrust  and  repulsion, 
so  Michaud  commanded  respect  and  confidence.  The 
first  attraction  of  his  presence  was  a  happy  face,  of 
a  fine  oval,  pure  in  outline,  in  which  the  nose  bore 
part,  —  a  regularit}^  which  is  lacking  in  the  majority 
of  French  faces.  Though  the  features  were  correct  in 
drawing,  the^^  were  not  without  expression,  due,  per- 
haps, to  the  harmonious  coloring  of  the  warm  brown 
and  ochre  tints,  indicative  of  ph3'^sical  health  and 
strength.  The  clear  brown  eyes,  which  were  bright 
and  piercing,  kept  no  reserves  in  the  expression  of 
his  thought ;  they  looked  straight  into  the  eyes  of 
others.  The  broad  white  forehead  was  thrown  still 
further  into  relief  by  his  abundant  black  hair.  Hon- 
est}",  decision,  and  a  saintly  serenity  were  the  animat- 
ing points  of  this  noble  face,  where  a  few  deep  lines 
upon  the  brow  were  the  result  of  the  man's  military 
career.  Doubt  and  suspicion  could  there  be  read  the 
moment  they  had  entered  his  mind.  His  figure,  like 
that  of  all  men  selected  for  the  elite  of  the  cavaliy 
service,  though   shapel3'   and   elegant,  was  vigorously 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  101 

built.  Michaud,  who  wore  luoustachios,  whiskers,  and 
a  chin  beard,  recalled  that  martial  type  of  face  which  a 
deluge  of  patriotic  paintings  and  engravings  came  very 
near  making  ridiculous.  This  t\'pe  had  the  defect  of 
i)eing  common  in  the  French  arm}';  perhaps  the  con- 
tinuance of  the  same  emotions,  the  same  camp  suffer- 
ings from  which  none  were  exempt,  neither  high  nor 
low,  and  more  especially  the  same  efforts  of  officers 
and  men  upon  the  battle-fields,  may  have  contributed 
to  produce  this  uniformity  of  countenance.  Michaud, 
who  was  dressed  in  dark  blue  cloth,  still  wore  the  black 
satin  stock  and  high  boots  of  a  soldier,  wbi(ih;!r|cVeased 
the  slight  stiff'ness  and  rigidit}^  of  h^S  bearng.  The 
shoulders  sloped,  the  chest  expanded, 'iis' though  ihe 
man  were  still  under  arms.  The  red  ribbon  of  the 
Legion  of  honor  was  in  his  buttonhole.  In  short,  to 
give  a  last  touch  in  one  word  about  the  moral  qualities 
beneath  this  purely  physical  presentment,  it  may  be 
said  that  while  the  steward,  from  the  time  he  first 
entered  upon  his  functions,  never  failed  to  call  his 
master  ''  Monsieur  le  comte,"  Michaud  never  addressed 
him  otherwise  than  as  "  General." 

Blondet  exchanged  another  look  with  the  Abbe  Bros- 
sette,  which  meant,  "  What  a  contrast !  "  as  he  signed 
to  him  to  observe  the  two  men.  Then,  as  if  to  know 
whether  the  character  and  mind  and  speech  of  the  bail- 
iff" harmonized  with  his  form  and  countenance,  he  turned 
to  Michaud  and  said  :  — 

"  I  was  out  early  this  morning,  and  found  your  under- 
keepers  still  sleeping." 

**  At  what  hour?  "  said  late  soldier,  anxiously. 

''  Half-past  seven." 

Michaud  gave  a  half-roguish  glance  at  the  general. 


102  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

"By  what  gate  did  monsieur  leave  the  park?"  he 
asked. 

"  B^^  the  gate  of  Conches.  The  keeper,  in  his  night- 
shirt, looked  at  me  through  the  window,"  replied  Blondet. 

"  Gaillard  had  probably  just  gone  to  bed,"  answered 
Michaud.  "  You  said  you  were  out  early,  and  I  thought 
you  meant  day-break.  If  my  man  were  at  home  at  that 
time,  he  must  have  been  ill ;  but  at  half-past  seven  he 
was  sure  to  be  in  bed.  We  are  up  all  night,"  added 
Michaud,  after  a  shght  pause,  replying  to  a  surprised 
look  on  the  countess's  face,  "but  our  watchfulness  is 
oftB^i  wasted.  You  have  just  given  twenty -five  francs 
to  a  man  who,  not  an  hour  ago,  was  quietly  helping  to 
hide  the  traces  of  a  robbery  committed  upon  you  this 
ver}^  morning.  I  came  to  speak  to  you  about  it,  gen- 
eral, when  you  have  finished  breakfast ;  for  something 
will  have  to  be  done." 

**  You  are  always  for  maintaining  the  right,  my  dear 
Michaud,  and  summumjits,  summum  injuria.  If  3'ou 
are  not  more  tolerant,  3^ou  will  get  into  trouble,  so  Sibi- 
let  here  tells  me.  I  wish  you.  could  have  heard  Pere 
Fourchon  just  now;  the  wine  he  had  been  drinking 
made  him  speak  out." 

"  He  frightened  me,"  said  the  countess. 

"  He  said  nothing  I  did  not  know  long  ago,"  replied 
the  general. 

"Oh!  the  rascal  wasn't  drunk;  he  was  playing  a 
part ;  for  whose  benefit  I  leave  3"0u  to  guess.  Perhaps 
you  know?"  returned  Michaud,  fixing  an  eye  on  Sibi- 
let  which  caused  the  latter  to  turn  red. 

"  Orusf"  cried  Blondet,  with  another  look  at  the 
abbe. 

"  But  these  poor  creatures  suffer,"  said  the  countess, 


Sons  of  the  Soil  103 

and  there  is  a  great  deal  of  truth  in  what  old  Fourchon 
IS  just  screamed  at  us,  —  for  I  cannot  call  it  speaking.'* 
*'  Madame,"  replied  Michaud,  "  do  3'ou  suppose  that 
)r  fourteen  years  the  soldiers  of  the  Emperor  slept  on 
bed  of  roses  ?  M}-  general  is  a  count,  he  is  a  grand 
leer  of  the  Legion  of  honor,  he  has  had  perquisites 
id  endowments  given  to  him  ;  am  I  jealous  of  him,  I 
Vho  fought  as  he  did  ?  Do  I  wish  to  cheat  him  of  his 
glor}^  to  steal  his  perquisites,  to  deny  him  the  honor  due 
to  his  rank  ?  The  peasant  should  obe}'  as  the  soldier 
obeys  ;  he  should  feel  the  loyalt}^  of  a  soldier,  his  respect 
for  acquired  rights,  and  strive  to  become  an  officer  him- 
self, honorably,  by  labor  and  not  by  theft.  The  sabre 
and  the  plough  are  twins  ;  though  the  soldier  has  some- 
thing more  than  the  peasant,  —  he  has  death  hanging  over 
him  at  any  minute." 

'*  I  want  to  say  that  from  the  pulpit,"  cried  the  abbe. 
**  Tolerant!"  continued  the  keeper,  replying  to  the 
general's  remark  about  Sibilet,  "I  would  tolerate  a  loss 
of  ten  per  cent  upon  the  gross  returns  of  Les  Aigues ; 
but  as  things  are  now  thirt}'  per  cent  is  what  you  lose, 
general ;  and,  if  Monsieur  Sibilet's  accounts  show  it,  I 
don't  understand  his  tolerance,  for  he  benevolently 
gives  up  a  thousand  or  twelve  hundred  francs  a  year.'* 

"My  dear  Monsieur  Michaud,"  replied  Sibilet,  in  a 
snappish  tone,  '*  I  have  told  Monsieur  le  comte  that  I 
would  rather  lose  twelve  hundred  francs  a  year  than 
my  life.  Think  of  it  seriously ;  I  have  warned  you 
often  enough." 

*'  Life  !  "  exclaimed  the  countess  ;  '^you  can't  mean 
that  anybody's  life  is  in  danger?" 

*'  Don't  let  us  argue  aboijt  state  affairs  here,"  said 
the  general,   laughing.     *'A11  this,   my   dear,  merely 


104  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

means  that  Sibilet,  in  his  capacity  of  financier,  is  timid 
and  cowardh',  while  the  minister  of  war  is  brave  and, 
like  his  general,  fears  nothing." 

"  Call  me  prudent,  Monsieur  le  comte,"  interposed 
Sibilet. 

"  Well,  well !  "  cried  Blondet,  laughing,  "  so  here  we 
are,  like  Cooper's  heroes  in  the  forests  of  America,  in 
the  midst  of  sieges  and  savages." 

"  Come,  gentlemen,  it  is  3'our  business  to  govern 
without  letting  me  hear  the  wheels  of  the  administra- 
tion," said  Madame  de  Montcornet. 

"  Ah  !  madame,"  said  the  cure,  "  but  it  may  be  right 
that  you  should  know  the  toil  from  which  those  pretty 
caps  you  wear  are  derived. 

"  Well,  then,  I  can  go  without  them,"  replied  the 
countess,  laughing,  "  I  will  be  very  respectful  to  a 
twenty-franc  piece,  and  grow  as  miserly  as  the  country 
people  themselves.  Come,  my  dear  abbe,  give  me  your 
arm.  Leave  the  general  with  his  two  ministers,  and 
let  us  go  to  the  gate  of  the  Avonne  to  see  Madame 
Michaud,  for  I  have  not  had  time  since  my  arrival 
to  pay  her  a  visit,  and  I  want  to  inquire  about  my 
little  protegee." 

And  the  pretty  woman,  alread}^  forgetting  the  rags 
and  tatters  of  Mouche  and  Fourchon,  and  their  eyes 
full  of  hatred,  and  Sibilet's  warnings,  went  to  have  her- 
self made  ready  for  the  walk. 

The  abbe  and  Blondet  obeyed  the  behest  of  the 
mistress  of  the  house  and  followed  her  from  the  dining- 
room,  waiting  till  she  was  ready  on  the  terrace  before 
the  chateau. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  all  this?"  said  Blondet  to 
the  abbe. 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  105 

"  I  am  a  pariah ;  they  dog  me  as  they  would  a  com- 
mon enemy.  I  am  forced  to  keep  my  ej'es  and  ears 
perpetually  open  to  escape  the  traps  they  are  con- 
stantly laying  to  get  me  out  of  the  place,"  replied  the 
abbe.  *'  I  am  even  doubtful,  between  ourselves,  as  to 
whether  they  will  not  shoot  me." 

**  Why  do  3'ou  stay?  "  said  Blondet. 

**  We  can't  desert  God's  cause  any  more  than  that  of 
an  emperor,"  replied  the  priest,  with  a  simplicity  that 
affected  Blondet.  He  took  the  abbe's  hand  and  shook 
it  cordially. 

*'  You  see  how  it  is,  therefore,  that  I  know  very  little 
of  the  plots  that  are  going  on,"  continued  the  abbe. 
*'  Still,  I  know  enough  to  feel  sure  that  the  general  is 
under  what  in  Artois  and  in  Belgium  is  called  an 
*  evil  grudge.'  " 

A  few  words  are  here  necessary  about  the  curate  of 
Blangy. 

This  priest,  the  fourth  son  of  a  worthy  middle-class 
family  of  Autun,  was  an  intelligent  man  carrying  his 
head  high  in  his  collar.  Small  and  sHght,  he  redeemed 
his  rather  puny  appearance  by  the  precise  and  carefully 
dressed  air  that  belongs  to  Burgundians.  He  accepted 
the  second-rate  post  of  Blangy  out  of  pure  devotion, 
for  his  religious  convictions  were  joined  to  political 
opinions  that  were  equally  strong.  There  was  some- 
thing of  the  priest  of  the  olden  time  about  him ;  he 
held  to  the  Church  and  to  the  clergy  passionately  ;  saw 
tlie  bearings  of  things,  and  no  selfishness  marred  his 
one  ambition,  which  was  to  serve.  That  was  his  motto, 
—  to  serve  the  Church  and  the  monarchy  wherever  it  was 
most  threatened ;  to  serve  in  the  lowest  rank  like  a 
soldier  who  feels  that  he  is  destined,  sooner  or  later,  to 


106     ,  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

attain  command  through  courage  and  the  resolve  to  do 
his  duty.  He  made  no  compromises  with  his  vows  of 
chastity,  and  poverty,  and  obedience  ;  he  fulfilled  them, 
as  he  did  the  other  duties  of  his  position,  with  that 
simplicit}'  and  cheerful  good-humor  which  are  the  sure 
indications  of  an  honest  heart,  constrained  to  do  right 
by  natural  impulses  as  much  as  by  the  power  and  con- 
sistency of  religious  convictions. 

The  priest  had  seen  at  first  sight  Blondet's  attach- 
ment to  the  countess  ;  he  saw  that  between  a  Troisville 
and  a  monarchical  journalist  he  could  safel}^  show  him- 
self to  be  a  man  of  broad  intelligence,  because  his  call- 
ing was  certain  to  be  respected.  He  usually  came  to 
the  chateau  every  evening  to  make  the  fourth  at  a  game 
of  whist.  The  journalist,  able  to  recognize  the  abbe's 
real  merits,  showed  him  so  much  deference  that  the 
pair  grew  into  sj-mpath}^  with  each  other ;  as  usually 
happens  when  men  of  intelligence  meet  their  equals,  or, 
if  you  prefer  it,  the  ears  that  are  able  to  hear  them. 
Swords  are  fond  of  their  scabbards. 

"But  to  what  do  you  attribute  this  state  of  things, 
Monsieur  I'abbe,  you  who  are  able,  through  your  dis- 
interestedness, to  look  ov^er  the  heads  of  things?" 

"  I  shall  not  talk  platitudes  after  such  a  flattering 
speech  as  that,"  said  the  abbe,  smiling.  "  What  is 
going  on  in  this  valle^^  is  spreading  more  or  less 
throughout*  France ;  it  is  the  outcome  of  the  hopes 
which  the  upheaval  of  1789  caused  to  infiltrate,  if  I  may 
use  that  expression,  the  minds  of  the  peasantry,  the 
sons  of  the  soil.  The  Revolution  affected  certain  local- 
ities more  than  others.  This  side  of  Burgundj^  nearest 
to  Paris,  is  one  of  those  places  where  the  revolutionary 
ideas  spread  like  the  overrunning  of  the  Franks  by  the 


Sons  of  the  Soil  107 

Gauls.  Historicallj^  the  peasants  are  still  on  the  mor- 
row of  the  Jacquerie ;  that  defeat  is  burnt  in  upon 
their  brain.  The}'  have  long  forgotten  the  facts  which 
have  now  passed  into  the  condition  of  an  instinctive 
idea.  That  idea  is  bred  in  the  peasant  blood,  just  as 
the  idea  of  superiorit}-  was  once  bred  in  noble  blood. 
The  revolution  of  1789  was  the  retaliation  of  the  van- 
quished. The  peasants  then  set  foot  in  possession  of 
the  soil  which  the  feudal  law  had  denied  them  for  over 
twelve  hundred  years.  Hence  their  desire  for  land, 
which  they  now  cut  up  among  themselves  until  actually  N 
they  divide  a  furrow  in  two  parts  ;  which,  by  the  bye, 
often  hinders  or  prevents  the  collection  of  taxes,  for  the 
value  of  such  fractions  of  property  is  not  sufficient  to 
pay  the  legal  costs  of  recovering  them." 

'*  Very  true,  for  the  obstinacy  of  the  small  owners  — 
their  aggressiveness,  if  3'ou  choose  —  on  this  point  is 
so  great  that  in  at  least  one  thousand  cantons  of  the  ^ 
three  thousand  of  French  territory,  it  is  impossible  for 
a  rich  man  to  buy  an  inch  of  land  from  a  peasant,"  said 
Blondet,  interrupting  the  abb^.  *'  The  peasants  who  are 
willing  to  divide  up  their  scraps  of  land  among  them- 
selves would  not  sell  a  fraction  on  any  condition  or  at 
any  price  to  the  middle  classes.  The  more  money  the 
rich  man  offers,  the  more  the  vague  uneasiness  of  the 
peasant  increases.  Legal  dispossession  alone  is  able  to  ^ 
bring  the  landed  property  of' the  peasant  into  the  mar- 
ket. Many  persons  have  noticed  this  fact  without  being 
able  to  find  a  reason  for  it." 

"  This  is  the  reason,"  said  the  abb^,  rightly  believing 
that  a  pause  with  Blondet  was  equivalent  to  a  ques- 
tion:  *' twelve  centuries  have  done  nothing  for  a  caste 
whom  the  historic  spectacle  of  civilization  has  never 


108  Sons  of  the  Soil 

yet  diverted  from  its  one  predominating  thought,  —  a 
caste  which  still  wears  proudly  the  broad-brimmed  hat 
of  its  masters,  ever  since  an  abandoned  fashion  placed 
it  upon  their  heads.  That  all-pervading  thought,  the 
roots  of  which  are  in  the  bowels  of  the  people,  and 
which  attached  them  so  vehemently  to  Napoleon  (who 
was  personally  less  to  them  than  he  thought  he  was) 
and  which  explains  the  miracle  of  his  return  in  1815, — 
that  desire  for  land  is  the  sole  motive  power  of  the 
peasant's  being.  In  the  ej^es  of  the  masses  Napoleon, 
ever  one  with  them  through  his  million  of  soldiers,  is 
still  the  king  born  of  the  Revolution ;  the  man  who 
gave  them  possession  of  the  soil  and  sold  to  them  the 
national  domains.  His  anointing  was  saturated  with 
that  idea.'* 

*'  An  idea  to  which  1814  dealt  a  blow,  an  idea  which 
monarchy  should  hold  sacred,"  said  Blondet,  quicklj^ ; 
"  for  the  people  may  some  day  find  on  the  steps  of  the 
throne  a  prince  whose  father  bequeathed  to  him  the 
head  of  Louis  XVI.  as  an  heirloom." 

*'  Here  is  madame ;  don't  say  any  more,"  said  the 
abbt^,  in  a  low  voice.  "  Fourchon  has  frightened  her; 
and  it  is  very  desirable  to  keep  her  here  in  the  interests 
of  religion  and  of  the  throne,  and,  indeed,  in  those  of 
the  people  themselves." 

Michaud,  the  bailiff  of  Les  Aigues,  had  come  to  the 
chateau  in  consequence  of  the  assault  on  Vatel's  eyes. 
But  before  we  relate  the  consultation  which  then  and 
there  took  place,  the  chain  of  events  requires  a  suc- 
cinct account  of  the  circumstances  under  which  the 
general  purchased  Les  Aigues,  the  serious  causes  which 
led  to  the  appointment  of  Sibilet  as  steward  of  that 
magnificent  property,  and  the  reasons  why  Michaud 


Sons  of  the  Soil  109 

was  made  bailiff,  with  all  the  other  antecedents  to 
which  were  due  the  tension  of  the  minds  of  all,  and 
the  fears  expressed  by  Sibilet. 

This  rapid  summary  will  have  the  merit  of  introduc- 
ing some  of  the  principal  actors  in  this  drama,  and  of 
exhibiting  their  individual  interests;  we  shall  thus  be 
enabled  to  show  the  dangers  which  surrounded  the 
General  comte  de  Montcornet  at  the  moment  when  this 
history  opens. 


110  JSons  of  the  Soil 

VI. 

A  TALE  OF  THIEVES. 

When  Mademoiselle  Laguerre  first  visited  her  estate, 
in  1791,  she  took  as  steward  the  son  of  the  ex-bailiff 
of  Soulanges,  named  Gaubertin.  The  little  town  of 
Soulanges,  at  present  nothing  more  than  the  chief 
town  of  a  canton,  was  once  the  capital  of  a  consider- 
able count}',  in  the  da3's  when  the  House  of  Burgundy 
made  war  upon  France.  Ville-aux-Fayes,  now  the 
seat  of  the  sub-prefecture,  then  a  mere  fief,  was  a  de- 
pendency of  Soulanges,  like  Les  Aigues,  Ronquerolles, 
Cerneux,  Conches,  and  a  score  of  other  parishes. 
The  Soulanges  have  remained  counts,  whereas  the 
Ronquerolles  are  now  marquises  by  the  will  of  that 
power,  called  the  Court,  which  made  the  son  of  Captain 
du  Plessis  duke  over  the  heads  of  the  first  families  of 
the  Conquest.  All  of  which  serves  to  prove  that  towns, 
like  families,  are  variable  in  their  destin3\ 

Gaubertin,  a  young  man  without  property  of  an}' 
kind,  succeeded  a  steward  enriched  by  a  management 
of  thirty  years,  who  preferred  to  become  a  partner  in 
the  famous  firm  of  Minoret  rather  than  continue  to 
administer  Les  Aigues.  In  his  own  interests  he  intro- 
duced into  his  place  as  land-steward  FranQois  Gauber- 
tin, his  accountant  for  five  years,  whom  he  now  relied 
on  to  cover  his  retreat,  and  who,  out  of  gratitude  for 
his  instructions,  promised  to  obtain  for  him  a  release 
in  full  of  all  claims  from  Mademoiselle  Laguerre,  who 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  111 

by  this  time  was  terrified  at  the  RevoUition.  Gauber- 
tin's  father,  the  attorney-general  of  the  department, 
henceforth  protected  the  timid  woman.  This  provin- 
cial Fouquier-Tinville  raised  a  false  alarm  of  danger  in 
the  mind  of  the  opera-divinity  on  the  ground  of  her 
former  relations  to  the  aristocracy,  so  as  to  give  his 
son  the  equalh'  false  credit  of  saving  her  life ;  on  the 
strength  of  which  Gaubertin  the  younger  obtained  very 
easily  the  release  of  his  predecessor.  Mademoiselle 
Laguerre  then  made  Francois  Gaubertin  her  prime 
minister,  as  much  through  policy  as  from  gratitude. 
The  late  steward  had  not  spoiled  her.  He  sent  her, 
everj"  year,  about  thirt}^  thousand  francs,  though  Lea 
Aigues  brought  in  at  that  time  at  least  fort}'  thousand. 
The  unsuspecting  opera-singer  was  therefore  much 
delighted  when  the  new  steward  Gaubertin  promised 
her  thirty-six  thousand. 

To  explain  the  present  fortune  of  the  land- steward 
of  Les  Aigues  before  the  judgment-seat  of  probability, 
it  is  necessary  to  state  its  beginnings.  Pushed  by  his 
father's  influence,  he  became  mayor  of  Blang}'.  Thus 
he  was  able,  contrary  to  law,  to  make  the  debtors  pay 
in  coin,  by  "terrorizing"  (a  phrase  of  the  day)  such 
of  them  as  might,  in  his  opinion,  be  subjected  to  the 
crushing  demands  of  the  Republic.  He  himself  paid 
the  citizens  in  assignats  so  long  as  the  system  of  paper 
mone}'  lasted,  —  a  system  which,  if  it  did  not  make  the 
nation  prosperous,  at  least  made  the  fortunes  of  private 
individuals.  From  1793  to  1795,  that  is,  for  three 
years,  Francois  Gaubertin  wrung  one  hundred  and 
fitly  thousand  francs  out  of  Les  Aigues,  with  which 
he  speculated  on  the  stock-market  in  Paris.  With 
her  purse  full  of  assignats  Mademoiselle  was  actually 


1 


112  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

obliged  to  obtain  ready  money  from  her  diamonds,  now 
useless  to  her.  She  gave  them  to  Gaubertin,  who 
sold  them,  and  faithfully  returned  her  their  full  price. 
This  proof  of  honesty  touched  her  heart;  henceforth 
she  believed  in  Gaubertin  as  she  did  in  Piccini. 

In  1796,  at  the  time  of  his  marriage  with  the  citoy- 
enne  Isaure  Mouchon,  daughter  of  an  old  "  conven- 
tional," a  friend  of  his  father,  Gaubertin  possessed 
about  three  hundred  and  fiftj^  thousand  francs  in 
money.  As  the  Director}^  seemed  to  him  likely  to  last, 
he  determined,  before  marrying,  to  have  the  accounts 
of  his  five  years'  stewardship  ratified  by  Mademoiselle, 
under  pretext  of  a  new  departure. 

"  I  am  to  be  the  head  of  a  family,"  he  said  to  her; 
'*  you  know  the  reputation  of  land-stewards  ;  my  father- 
in-law  is  a  republican  of  Roman  austerit}^  and  a  man 
of  influence  as  well ;  I  want  to  prove  to  him  that  I  am 
as  upright  as  he." 

Mademoiselle  Laguerre  accepted  his  accounts  at  once 
in  very  flattering  terms. 

In  those  earlier  days  the  steward  had  endeavored,  in 
order  to  win  the  confidence  of  Madame  des  Aigues  (as 
Mademoiselle  was  then  called)  to  repress  the  depreda- 
tions of  the  peasantr}' ;  fearing,  and  not  without  reason, 
that  the  revenues  would  suffer  too  severel}',  and  that 
his  private  bonus  from  the  buyers  of  the  timber  would 
sensibly  diminish.  But  in  those  days  the  sovereign 
people  felt  the  soil  was  their  own  everywhere  ;  Madame 
was  afraid  of  the  surrounding  kings  and  told  her  Riche- 
lieu that  the  first  desire  of  her  soul  was  to  die  in  peace. 
The  revenues  of  the  late  singer  were  so  far  in  excess 
of  her  expenses  that  she  allowed  all  the  worst  and,  as 
it  proved,  fatal  precedents  to  be  established.    To  avoid 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  118 

a  lawsuit,  she  allowed  the  neighbors  to  encroach  upon 
her  land.  Knowing  that  the  park  walls  were  sufficient 
protection,  she  did  not  fear  any  interruption  of  her  per- 
sonal comfort,  and  cared  for  nothing  but  her  peaceful 
existence,  true  philosopher  that  she  was!  A  few 
thousands  a  year  more  or  less,  the  indemnities  exacted 
by  the  wood-merchants  for  the  damages  committed  by 
the  peasants,  —  what  were  they  to  a  careless  and  ex- 
travagant Opera-girl,  who  had  gained  her  hundred 
thousand  francs  a  year  at  the  cost  of  pleasure  only,  and 
who  had  just  submitted,  without  a  word  of  remon- 
strance, to  a  reduction  of  two  thirds  of  an  income  of 
sixty  thousand  francs? 

*' Dear  me!"  she  said,  in  the  easy  tone  of  the 
wantons  of  the  old  time,  ""  people  must  live,  even  if 
they  are  republicans." 

The  terrible  Mademoiselle  Cochet,  her  maid  and 
female  vizier,  had  tried  to  enlighten  her  mistress  when 
she  saw  the  ascendency  Gaubertin  was  obtaining  over 
one  whom  he  began  b}^  calling  ' '  Madame  "  in  defiance 
of  the  revolutionarj'  laws  about  equality  ;  but  Gauber- 
tin, in  his  turn,  enlightened  Mademoiselle  Cochet  by 
Showing  her  a  so-called  denunciation  sent  to  his  father, 
the  prosecuting  attorne}',  in  which  she  was  vehemently' 
accused  of  corresponding  with  Pitt  and  Coburg.  From 
that  time  forward  the  two  powers  went  on  shares  — 
shares  a  la  Montgomery.  Cochet  praised  Gaubertin 
to  Madame,  and  Gaubertin  praised  Cochet.  The  wait- 
ing-maid had  already  made  her  own  bed,  and  knew  she 
was  down  for  sixty  thousand  francs  in  the  will.  Madame 
could  not  do  without  Cochet,  to  whom  she  was  accus- 
tomed. The  woman  knew  the  secrets  of  dear  mistress's 
toilet ;  she  alone  could  put  dear  mistress  to  sleep  at 

8 


114  Sons  of  the  Soil.  \ 

night  with  her  gossip,  and  get  her  up  in  the  morning 
with  her  flattery ;  to  the  day  of  dear  mistress's  death 
the  maid  never  could  see  the  slightest  change  in  her, 
and  when  dear  mistress  lay  in  her  coffin,  she  doubtless 
thought  she  had  never  seen  her  looking  so  well. 

The  annual  pickings  of  Gaubertin  and  Mademoiselle 
Cochet,  their  wages  and  perquisites,  became  so  large 
that  the  most  affectionate  relatives  could  not  possibly 
have  been  more  devoted  than  they  to  their  kindly 
mistress.  There  is  realh^  no  describing  how  a  swindler 
cossets  his  dupe.  A  mother  is  not  so  tender  nor  so 
solicitous  for  a  beloved  daughter  as  the  practitioner 
of  tartuferie  for  his  milch  cow.  What  brilliant  success 
attends  the  performance  of  Tartufe  behind  the  closed 
doors  of  a  home !  It  is  worth  more  than  friendship. 
Moliere  died  too  soon  ;  he  would  otherwise  have  shown 
us  the  misery  of  Orgon,  wearied  b^'  his  familj',  harassed 
by  his  children,  regretting  the  blandishments  of  Tartufe, 
and  thinking  to  himself,  ''Ah,  those  were  the  good 
times ! " 

During  the  last  eight  3'ears  of  her  life  the  mistress 
of  Les  Aigues  received  only  thirty-  thousand  francs  of 
the  fift}^  thousand  really  yielded  by  the  estate.  Gauber- 
tin had  reached  the  same  administrative  results  as  his 
predecessor,  though  farm  rents  and  territorial  products 
were  notably  increased  between  1791  and  1815,  —  not 
to  speak  of  Madame's  continual  purchases.  But 
Gaubertin's  fixed  idea  of  acquiring  Les  Aigues  at  the 
old  lady's  death  led  him  to  depreciate  the  value  of  the 
magnificent  estate  in  the  matter  of  its  ostensible  reve- 
nues. Mademoiselle  Cochet,  a  sharer  in  the  scheme, 
was  also  to  share  the  profits.  As  the  ex-divinity  in  her 
declining  3'ears  received  an  income  of  twenty-  thousand 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  115 

francs  from  the  Funds  called  consolidated  (how  readily 
the  tongue  of  politics  can  jest!),  and  with  difficulty 
spent  the  said  sum  yearly,  she  was  much  surprised  at 
the  annual  purchases  made  by  the  steward  to  use  up 
the  accumulating  revenues,  remembering  how  in  former 
times  she  had  always  drawn  them  in  advance.  The 
result  of  having  few  wants  in  her  old  age  seemed,  to 
her  mind,  a  proof  of  the  honesty  and  uprightness  of 
Gaubertin  and  Mademoiselle  Cochet. 

''Two  pearls!"  she  said  to  the  persons  who  came 
to  see  her. 

Gaubertin  kept  his  accounts  with  apparent  honesty. 
He  entered  all  rentals  duly.  Everything  that  could 
strike  the  feeble  mind  of  the  late  singer,  so  far  as 
arithmetic  went,  was  clear  and  precise.  The  steward 
took  his  commission  on  all  disbursements,  —  on  the 
costs  of  working  the  estate,  on  rentals  made,  on  suits 
brought,  on  work  done,  on  repairs  of  every  kind,  — 
details  which  Madame  never  dreamed  of  verifying,  and 
for  which  he  sometimes  charged  twice  over  by  collusion 
with  the  contractors,  whose  silence  was  bought  by 
permission  to  charge  the  highest  prices.  These 
methods  of  dealing  conciliated  public  opinion  in  favor 
of  Gaubertin,  while  Madame's  praise  was  on  every  lip ; 
for  besides  the  payments  she  disbursed  for  work,  she 
gave  away  large  sums  of  money  in  alms. 

"  Ma}'  God  preserve  her,  the  dear  lad}' !  "  was  heard 
on  all  sides. 

The  truth  was,  everybody  got  something  out  of  her, 
either  indirectly  or  as  a  downright  gift.  In  reprisals, 
as  it  were,  of  her  youth  the  old  actress  was  pillaged ; 
so  discreetly  pillaged,  however,  that  those  who  throve 
upon  her  kept  their  depredations  within  certain  limits 

or  THf  r 

IVEBSITl 


116  Sons  of  the  Soil.  I 

lest  even  her  eyes  might  be  opened  and  she  should  sell 
Les  Aigues  and  return  to  Paris. 

This  system  of  "  pickings  "  was,  alas!  the  cause  of 
Paul-Louis  Courier's  assassination ;  he  committed  the 
mistake  of  advertising  the  sale  of  his  estate  and 
allowing  it  to  be  known  that  he  should  take  awa}-  his 
wife,  on  whom  a  number  of  the  Tonsards  of  Lorraine 
were  battening.  Fearing  to  lose  Madame  des  Aigues,  the 
marauders  on  the  estate  forbore  to  cut  the  young  trees, 
unless  pushed  to  extremities  by  finding  no  branches 
within  reach  of  shears  fastened  to  long  poles.  In  the 
interests  of  robbery,  they  did  as  little  harm  as  they 
could ;  although,  during  the  last  ^^ears  of  Madame's 
life,  the  habit  of  cutting  wood  became  more  and  more 
barefaced.  On  certain  clear  nights  not  less  than  two 
hundred  bundles  were  taken.  As  to  the  gleaning  of 
fields  and  vinej'ards,  Les  Aigues  lost,  as  Sibilet  had 
pointed  out,  not  less  than  one  quarter  of  its  products. 

Madame  des  Aigues  had  forbidden  Cocliet  to  marry 
during  her  lifetime,  with  the  selfishness  often  shown  in 
all  countries  by  a  mistress  to  a  maid ;  which  is  not 
more  irrational  than  the  mania  for  keeping  possession, 
until  our  last  gasp,  of  propert}^  that  is  utterly  useless 
to  our  material  comfort,  at  the  risk  of  being  poisoned 
by  impatient  heirs.  Twenty  days  after  the  old  lady's 
burial  Mademoiselle  Cochet  married  the  brigadier  of 
the  gendarmerie  of  Soulanges,  named  Soudrj',  a  hand- 
some man,  fort3'-two  3'ears  of  age,  who,  ever  since 
1800  (in  which  year  the  gendarmerie  was  formed)  had 
come  every  day  to  Les  Aigues  to  see  the  waiting-maid, 
and  dined  with  her  at  least  three  times  a  week  at  the 
Gaubertins'. 

During  Madame's  lifetime  dinner  was  served  to  her 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  117 

and  to  her  company  b\^  themselves.  Neither  Cochet 
nor  Gaubertin,  in  spite  of  their  great  familiarity  with 
the  mistress,  was  ever  admitted  to  her  table  ;  the  lead- 
ing lady  of  the  Academic  Royale  retained,  to  her  last 
hour,  her  sense  of  etiquette,  her  style  of  dress,  her  rouge 
and  her  heeled  slippers,  her  carriage,  her  servants,  and 
the  majesty  of  her  deportment.  A  divinity  at  the 
Opera,  a  divinity  within  her  range  of  Parisian  social 
life,  she  continued  a  divinity  in  the  country  solitudes, 
where  her  memory  is  still  worshipped,  and  still  holds 
its  own  against  that  of  the  old  monarchy  in  the  minds 
of  the  ''  best  society  "  of  Soulanges. 

Soudry,  who  had  paid  his  addresses  to  Mademoiselle 
Cochet  from  the  time  he  first  came  into  the  neighbor- 
hood, owned  the  finest  house  in  Soulanges,  an  income 
of  six  thousand  francs,  and  the  prospect  of  a  retiring 
pension  whenever  he  should  quit  the  service.  As  soon 
as  Cochet  became  Madame  Soudry  she  was  treated 
with  great  consideration  in  the  town.  Though  she 
kept  the  strictest  secrecy  as  to  the  amount  of  her 
savings, — which  were  intrusted,  like  those  of  Gauber- 
tin, to  the  commissar}^  of  -^ine-merchants  of  the  de- 
partment in  Paris,  a  certain  Leclercq,  a  native  of  Sou- 
langes, to  whom  Gaubertin  supplied  funds  as  sleeping 
partner  in  his  business,  —  public  opinion  credited  the 
former  waiting-maid  with  one  of  the  largest  fortunes  in 
the  little  town  of  twelve  hundred  inhabitants. 

To  the  great  astonishment  of  every  one.  Monsieur 
and  Madame  Soudry  acknowledged  as  legitimate,  in 
their  marriage  contract,  a  natural  son  of  the  gendarme, 
to  whom,  in  future,  Madame  Soudry's  fortune  was  to 
descend.  At  the  time  when  this  son  was  legally  sup- 
pUed  with  a  mother,  he  had  just  ended  his  law  studies 


118  jSons  of  the  Soil, 

in  Paris  and  was  about  to  enter  into  practice,  with  the 
intention  of  fitting  himself  for  the  magistrac3\ 

It  is  scarcely  necessary'  to  remark  that  a  mutual  un- 
derstanding of  twent3'  years  had  produced  the  closest 
intimacy  between  the  families  of  Gaubertin  and  Soudry. 
Both  reciprocally  declared  themselves,  to  the  end  of 
their  days,  urbi  et  orbi^  to  be  the  most  upright  and 
honorable  persons  in  all  France.  Such  community  of 
interests,  based  on  mutual  knowledge  of  the  secret 
spots  on  the  white  garment  of  conscience,  is  one  of 
the  ties  least  recognized  and  hardest  to  untie  in  this 
low  world.  You  who  read  this  social  drama,  have  you 
never  felt  a  conviction  as  to  two  persons  which  has  led 
you  to  say  to  yourself,  in  order  to  explain  the  continu- 
ance of  a  certain  faithful  devotion  which  made  3'our 
own  egotism  blush,  "  They  must  surely  have  committed 
some  crime  together  "  ? 

After  an  administration  of  twenty-five  years,  Gauber- 
tin, the  land-steward,  found  himself  in  possession  of 
six  hundred  thousand  francs  in  money,  and  Cochet  had 
accumulated  nearly  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand. 
The  rapid  and  constant  turning  over  and  over  of  their 
funds  in  the  hands  of  Leclercq  and  Company  (on  the 
quai  Bethune,  lie  Saint  Louis,  rivals  of  the  famous 
house  of  Grandet)  was  a  great  assistance  to  the  for- 
tunes of  all  parties.  On  the  death  of  Mademoiselle 
Laguerre,  Jenny,  the  steward's  eldest  daughter  was 
asked  in  marriage  b}^  Leclercq.  Gaubertin  expected 
at  that  time  to  become  owner  of  Les  Aigues  by  means 
of  a  plot  laid  in  the  private  oflSce  of  Lupin,  the  notarj, 
whom  the  steward  had  set  up  and  maintained  in  busi- 
ness within  the  last  twelve  j'ears. 

Lupin,  a  son  of  the  former  steward  of  the  estate  of 


I 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  119 

Soulanges,  had  lent  himself  to  various  slight  pecula- 
tions, —  investments  at  fifty  per  cent  below  par,  notices 
published  surreptitiously,  and  all  the  other  manoeuvres, 
unhappily  common  in  the  provinces,  to  wrap  a  mantle, 
as  the  saying  is,  over  clandestine  manipulations  of 
property.  Lately  a  compan}^  has  been  formed  in  Paris, 
so  they  say,  to  levy  contributions  upon  such  plot- 
ters under  a  threat  of  outbidding  them.  But  in  1816 
France  was  not,  as  it  is  now,  lighted  by  a  flaming  pub- 
licity ;  the  accomplices  might  safely  count  on  dividing 
Les  Aigues  among  them,  that  is,  between  Cochet,  the 
notary,  and  Gaubertin,  the  latter  of  whom  reserved  to 
himself,  in  petto^  the  intention  of  buying  the  others  out 
for  a  sum  down,  as  soon  as  the  propert}^  fairly  stood  in 
his  own  name.  The  lawyer  employed  by  the  notary  to 
manage  the  sale  of  the  estate  by  auction  was  under 
personal  obligations  to  Gaubertin,  so  that  he  favored 
the  spohation  of  the  heirs,  unless  any  of  the  eleven 
farmers  of  Picardy  should  take  it  into  their  heads  to 
think  they  were  cheated,  and  inquire  into  the  real  value 
of  the  property. 

Just  as  those  interested  expected  to  find  their  for- 
tunes made,  a  lawyer  came  from  Paris  on  the  evening 
before  the  final  settlement,  and  employed  a  notar}^  at 
Ville-aux-Fayes,  who  happened  to  be  one  of  his  former 
clerks,  to  buy  the  estate  of  Les  Aigues,  which  he  did 
for  eleven  hundred  thousand  francs.  None  of  the  con- 
spirators dared  outbid  an  offer  of  eleven  hundred  thou- 
sand francs.  Gaubertin  suspected  some  treachery  on 
Soudry's  part,  and  Soudry  and  Lupin  thought  they 
were  tricked  by  Gaubertin.  But  a  statement  on  the 
part  of  the  purchasing  agent,  the  notary  of  Ville-aux- 
Fayes,  disabused  them  of  these  suspicions.     The  latter, 


120  Sons  of  the  Soil 

though  suspecting  the  plan  formed  b}^  Gaiibertin,  Lupin, 
and  Soudiy,  refrained  from  informing  the  lawyer  in 
Paris,  for  the  reason  that  if  the  new  owners  indiscreet!}^ 
repeated  his  words,  he  would  have  too  many  enemies 
at  his  heels  to  be  able  to  stay  where  he  was.  This 
reticence,  peculiar  to  provincials,  was  in  this  particular 
case  amply  justified  by  succeeding  events.  If  the 
dwellers  in  the  provinces  are  dissemblers,  the}"  are 
forced  to  be  so ;  their  excuse  lies  in  the  danger  ex- 
pressed in  the  old  proverb,  "  We  must  howl  with  the 
wolves,"  a  meaning  which  underlies  the  character  of 
Phihnte. 

When  General  Montcornet  took  possession  of  Les 
Aigues,  Gaubertin  was  no  longer  rich  enough  to  give 
up  his  place.  In  order  to  marry  his  daughter  to  a  rich 
banker  he  was  obliged  to  give  her  a  dowry  of  two  hun- 
dred thousand  francs ;  he  had  to  pay  thirty  thousand 
for  his  son's  practice  ;  and  all  that  remained  of  his 
accumulations  was  three  hundred  and  seventy  thousand, 
out  of  which  he  would  be  forced,  sooner  or  later,  to 
pay  the  dowry  of  his  remaining  daughter,  £lise,  for 
whom  he  hoped  to  arrange  a  marriage  at  least  as  good 
as  that  of  her  sister.  The  steward  determined  to  study 
the  general,  in  order  to  find  out  if  he  could  disgust 
him  witli  the  place,  —  hoping  still  to  be  able  to  carry  out 
his  defeated  plan  in  his  own  interests. 

With  the  peculiar  instinct  which  characterizes  those 
who  make  their  fortunes  hj  craft,  Gaubertin  believed 
in  a  resemblance  of  nature  (which  was  not  improbable) 
between  an  old  soldier  and  an  old  Opera-singer.  An 
actress,  and  a  general  of  the  Empire,  —  surely  the}' 
would  have  the  same  extravagant  habits,  the  same 
careless   prodigality?     To   the    one   as   to  the   other, 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  121 

riches  came  capriciously  and  by  lucky  chances.  If  some 
soldiers  are  wih'  and  astute  and  clever  politicians,  they 
are  exceptions ;  a  soldier  is,  usuallj',  especially  an  ac- 
complished cavalry  officer  like  Montcornet,  guileless, 
confident,  a  novice  in  business,  and  little  fitted  to  un- 
derstand details  in  the  management  of  an  estate. 
Gaubertin  flattered  himself  that  he  could  catch  and 
hold  the  general  with  the  same  net  in  which  Made- 
moiselle Laguerre  had  finished  her  days.  But  it  so 
happened  that  the  Jimperor  had  once,  intentionall}^, 
allowed  Montcornet  to  play  the  same  game  in  Pomer- 
ania  that  Gaubertin  was  pla3'ing  at  Les  Aigues ;  con- 
sequently, the  general  fully  understood  a  system  of 
plundering. 

In  planting  cabbages,  to  use  the  expression  of  the 
first  Due  de  Biron,  the  old  cuirassier  sought  to  divert 
his  mind,  b}^  occupation,  from  dwelling  on  his  fall. 
Though  he  had  yielded  his  corps  d  'armee  to  the  Bour- 
bons, that  duty  (performed  by  other  generals  and 
termed  the  disbanding  of  the  army  of  the  Loire)  could 
not  atone  for  the  crime  of  having  followed  the  man  of 
the  Hundred-Da3's  to  his  last  battle-field.  In  presence 
of  the  allied  army  it  was  impossible  for  the  peer  of 
1815  to  remain  in  the  service,  still  less  at  the  Luxem- 
bourg. Accordingly,  Montcornet  betook  himself  to  the 
country  by  advice  of  a  dismissed  marshal,  to  plunder 
Nature  herself.  The  general  was  not  deficient  in  the 
special  cunning  of  an  old  military  fox ;  and  after  he 
had  spent  a  few  days  in  examining  his  new  property, 
he  saw  that  Gaubertin  was  a  steward  of  the  old  sys- 
tem,—  a  swindler,  such  as  the  dukes  and  marshals  of 
the  Empire,  those  mushrooms  bred  from  the  common 
earth,  were  well  acquainted  with. 


122  Sons  of  the  Soil, 

The  wily  general,  soon  aware  of  Gaubertin's  great 
experience  in  rural  administration,  felt  it  was  politic  to 
keep  well  with  him  until  he  had  himself  learned  the 
secrets  of  it ;  accordingly,  he  passed  himself  off  as 
another  Mademoiselle  Laguerre,  a  course  which  lulled 
the  steward  into  false  security'.  This  apparent  simple- 
mindedness  lasted  all  the  time  that  it  took  the  general 
to  learn  the  strength  and  weakness  of  Les  Aigues,  to 
master  the  details  of  its  revenues  and  the  manner  of 
collecting  them,  and  to  ascertain  how  and  where  the 
robberies  occurred,  together  with  the  betterments  and 
economies  which  ought  to  be  undertaken.  Then,  one 
fine  morning,  having  caught  Gaubertin  with  his  hand 
in  the  bag,  as  the  saying  is,  the  general  flew  into  one 
of  those  rages  peculiar  to  the  imperial  conquerors  of 
many  lands.  In  doing  so  he  committed  a  capital 
blunder,  —  one  that  would  have  ruined  the  whole  life  of 
a  man  of  less  wealth  and  less  consistency  than  himself, 
and  from  which  came  the  evils,  both  small  and  great, 
with  which  the  present  history  teems.  Brought  up  in 
the  imperial  school,  accustomed  to  deal  with  men  as  a 
dictator,  and  full  of  contempt  for  ''  civilians,"  Montcor- 
net  did  not  trouble  himself  to  wear  gloves  when  it  came 
to  putting  a  rascal  of  a  land-steward  out  of  doors. 
Civil  life  and  its  precautions  were  things  unknown  to 
the  soldier  already  embittered  by  his  loss  of  rank.  He 
humiliated  Gaubertin  ruthlessly,  though  the  latter  drew 
the  harsh  treatment  upon  himself  by  a  cynical  reply 
which  roused  Montcornet's  anger. 

"  You  are  living  off  my  land,"  said  the  general,  with 
jesting  severity. 

''Do  you  think  I  can  live  off  the  sky?"  returned 
Gaubertin,  with  a  sneer. 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  123 

"  Out  of  m}'  sight,  blackguard  !  I  dismiss  you  !  "  cried 
the  general,  striking  him  with  his  whip,  —  blows  which 
the  steward  always  denied  having  received,  for  they 
were  given  behind  closed  doors. 

''  I  shall  not  go  without  my  release  in  full,"  said 
Gaubertin,  coldly,  keeping  at  a  distance  from  the  en- 
raged soldier. 

^'  We  will  see  what  is  thought  of  3'ou  in  a  police 
court,"  replied  Montcornet,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 

Hearing  the  threat,  Gaubertin  looked  at  the  general 
and  smiled.  The  smile  had  the  effect  of  relaxing 
Montcornet's  arms  as  though  the  sinews  had  been  cut. 
We  must  explain  that  smile. 

For  the  last  two  years  Gaubertin's  brother-in-law, 
a  man  named  Gendrin,  long  a  justice  of  the  municipal 
court  of  Ville-aux-Fayes,  had  become  the  president  of 
that  court  through  the  influence  of  the  Comte  de  Sou- 
langes.  The  latter  was  made  peer  of  France  in  1814, 
and  remained  faithful  to  the  Bourbons  during  the  Hun- 
dred-Days, therefore  the  Keeper  of  the  Seals  readily 
granted  an  appointment  at  his  request.  This  relation- 
ship gave  Gaubertin  a  certain  importance  in  the  coun- 
try. The  president  of  the  court  of  a  little  town  is, 
relatively,  a  greater  personage  than  the  president  of 
one  of  the  royal  courts  of  a  great  city,  who  has  various 
equals,  such  as  generals,  bishops,  and  prefects  ;  whereas 
the  judge  of  the  court  of  a  small  town  has  none,  — 
the  attorney-general  and  the  sub-prefect  being  remov- 
able at  will.  Young  Soudr}',  a  companion  of  Gauber- 
tin's son  in  Paris  as  well  as  at  Les  Aigues,  had  just 
been  appointed  assistant  attorney  in  the  capital  of  the 
department.  Before  the  elder  Soudry,  a  quartermaster 
in  the  artillery,  became  a  brigadier  of  gendarmes,  he 


124  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

had  been  wounded  in  a  skirmish  while  defending  Mon- 
sieur de  Soulanges,  then  adjutant-general.  At  the  time 
of  the  creation  of  the  gendarmerie,  the  Comte  de  Sou- 
langes, who  by  that  time  had  become  a  colonel,  asked 
for  a  brigade  for  his  former  protector,  and  later  still 
he  solicited  the  post  we  have  named  for  the  younger 
Soudry.  Besides  all  these  influences,  the  marriage  of 
Mademoiselle  Gaubertin  with  a  wealthy  banker  of  the 
quai  Bethune  made  the  unjust  steward  feel  that  he 
was  far  stronger  in  the  community  than  a  lieutenant- 
general  driven  into  retirement. 

If  this  history  provided  no  other  instruction  than 
that  offered  bj^  the  quarrel  between  the  general  and  his 
steward,  it  would  still  be  useful  to  many  persons  as  a 
lesson  for  their  conduct  in  life.  He  who  reads  Machia- 
velli  profitably,  knows  that  human  prudence  consists 
in  never  threatening  ;  in  doing  but  not  saying ;  in  pro- 
moting the  retreat  of  an  enemy  and  never  stepping,  as 
the  saying  is,  on  the  tail  of  the  serpent ;  and  in  avoid- 
ing, as  one  would  murder,  the  infliction  of  a  blow  to 
the  self-love  of  an}-  one  lower  than  one's  self  An  injur}^ 
done  to  a  person's  interest,  no  matter  how  great  it  may 
be  at  the  time,  is  forgiven  or  explained  in  the  long  run  ; 
but  self-love,  vanity,  never  ceases  to  bleed  from  a  wound 
given,  and  never  forgives  it.  The  moral  being  is  actually 
more  sensitive,  more  living  as  it  were,  than  the  pl^'si- 
cai  being.  The  heart  and  the  blood  are  less  impressible 
than  the  nerves.  In  short,  our  inward  being  rules  us, 
no  matter  what  we  do.  You  may  reconcile  two  fami- 
lies who  have  half-killed  each  other,  as  in  Brittany  and 
in  La  Vendee  during  the  civil  wars,  but  j'ou  can  no 
more  reconcile  the  caliminiators  and  the  calumniated 
than  you  can  the  spoilers  and  the  despoiled.     It  is  only 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  125 

in  epic  poems  that  men  curse  each  other  before  they 
kill.  The  savage,  and  the  peasant  who  is  much  like  a 
savage,  seldom  speak  unless  to  deceive  an  enemy. 
Ever  since  1789  France  has  been  trying  to  make  men 
believe,  against  all  evidence,  that  they  are  equal.  To 
say  to  a  man,  "  You  are  a  swindler,"  may  be  taken  as  a 
joke ;  but  to  catch  him  in  the  act  and  prove  it  to  him 
with  a  cane  on  his  back,  to  threaten  him  with  a  police- 
court  and  not  follow  up  the  threat,  is  to  remind  him  of 
the  inequality  of  conditions.  If  the  masses  will  not 
brook  any  species  of  superiority,  is  it  likely  that  a 
swindler  will  forgive  that  of  an  honest  man? 

Montcornet  might  have  dismissed  his  steward  under 
pretext  of  paying  off  a  military  obligation  by  putting 
some  old  soldier  in  his  place ;  Gaubertin  and  the  gen- 
eral would  have  understood  the  matter,  and  the  latter, 
by  sparing  the  steward's  self-love  would  have  given 
him  a  chance  to  withdraw  quietly.  Gaubertin,  in  that 
case,  would  have  left  his  late  employer  in  peace,  and 
forgotten  his  overthrow  in  other  land  speculations ; 
possibly  he  might  have  taken  himself  and  his  savings 
to  Paris  for  investment.  But  being,  as  he  was,  igno- 
miniously  dismissed,  the  man  conceived  against  his 
late  master  one  of  those  bitter  hatreds  which  are  liter- 
2i\\y  a  part  of  existence  in  provincial  life,  the  persist- 
ency, duration,  and  plots  of  which  would  astonish 
diplomatists  who  are  trained  to  let  nothing  astonish 
them.  A  burning  desire  for  vengeance  led  him  to  set- 
tle at  Ville-aux-Fayes,  and  to  take  a  position  where  he 
could  injure  Montcornet  and  stir  up  sufficient  enmity 
against  to  force  him  to  sell  Les  Aigues. 

The  general  was  deceived  bj^  appearances  ;  for  Gau- 
bertin's  external  behavior  was  not  of  a  nature  to  warn 


126  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

or  to  alarm  him.  The  late  steward  followed  his  old 
custom  of  pretending,  not  exactl}'  poverty,  but  limited 
means.  For  years  he  had  talked  of  his  wife  and  three 
children,  and  the  heavy  expenses  of  a  large  family. 
Mademoiselle  Laguerre,  to  whom  he  declared  himself 
too  poor  to  educate  his  son  in  Paris,  paid  the  costs  her- 
self, and  allowed  her  dear  godson  (for  she  was  Claude 
Gaubertin's  sponsor)   two  thousand  francs  a  year. 

The  day  after  the  quarrel,  Gaubertin  came,  with  a 
keeper  named  Courtecuisse,  and  demanded  with  much 
insolence  his  release  in  full  of  all  claims,  showing  the 
general  the  one  he  had  obtained  from  his  late  mistress 
in  such  flattering  terms,  and  asking,  ironically,  that  a 
search  should  be  made  for  the  property,  real  and  other- 
wise, which  he  was  supposed  to  have  stolen.  If  he  had 
received  fees  from  the  wood-merchants  on  their  pur- 
chases and  from  the  farmers  on  their  leases,  Mademoi- 
selle Laguerre,  he  said,  had  always  allowed  it ;  not  only 
did  she  gain  bj^  the  bargains  he  mado,  but  everything 
went  on  smoothly  without  troubling  her.  The  country- 
people  would  have  died,  he  remarked,  for  Mademoiselle, 
whereas  the  general  was  laying  up  for  himself  a  store 
of  difficulties. 

Gaubertin  —  and  this  trait  is  frequently  to  be  seen 
in  the  majority  of  those  professions  in  which  the  prop- 
erty of  others  can  be  taken  by  means  not  foreseen  by 
the  Code  —  considered  himself  a  perfectly  honest  man. 
In  the  first  place,  he  had  so  long  had  possession  of  the 
money  extorted  from  Mademoiselle  Laguerre's  farmers 
through  fear,  and  paid  in  assignats,  that  he  regarded 
it  as  legitimately  acquired.  It  was  a  mere  matter  of 
exchange.  He  thought  that  in  the  end  he  should  run 
quite  as  much  risk  with  coin  as  with  paper.     Besides, 


Sons  of  the  Soil  127 

legalljs  Mademoiselle  had  no  right  to  receive  any  pay- 
ment except  in  assignats.  "  Legally  "  is  a  tine,  robust 
adverb,  which  bolsters  up  many  a  fortune  !  Moreover, 
he  reflected  that  ever  since  great  estates  and  land- 
agents  had  existed,  that  is,  ever  since  the  origin  of 
society,  the  said  agents  had  set  up,  for  their  own  use, 
an  argument  such  as  we  find  our  cooks  using  in  the 
present  day.     Here  it  is  in  its  simplicity :  — 

'*  If  my  mistress,"  says  the  cook,  "  went  to  market 
herself,  she  would  have  to  pay  more  for  her  provisions 
than  I  charge  her ;  she  is  the  gainer,  and  the  profits  I 
make  do  more  good  in  my  hands  than  in  those  of  the 
dealers." 

''  If  Mademoiselle,"  thought  Gaubertin,  "  were  to 
manage  Les  Aigues  herself,  she  would  never  get  thirty 
thousand  francs  a  year  out  of  it ;  the  peasants,  the 
dealers,  the  workmen  would  rob  her  of  the  rest.  It  is 
much  better  that  I  should  have  it,  and  so  enable  her  to 
live  in  peace." 

The  Catholic  religion,  and  it  alone,  is  able  to  prevent 
these  capitulations  of  conscience.  But,  ever  since  1789 
religion  has  no  infiuence  on  two  thirds  of  the  French 
people.  The  peasants,  whose  minds  are  keen  and  whose 
poverty  drives  them  to  imitation,  had  reached,  speciall}' 
in  the  valley  of  Les  Aigues,  a  frightful  state  of  demor- 
alization. They  went  to  mass  on  Sunda3's,  but  only 
;it  the  outside  of  the  church,  where  it  was  their  custom 
jio  meet  and  transact  business  and  make  their  weekl}^ 
bargains. 

We  can  now  estimate  the  extent  of  the  evil  done  by 
the  careless  indifference  of  the  great  singer  to  the 
management  of  her  propert3\  Mademoiselle  Laguerre 
betrayed,   through   mere   selfishness,    the   interests    of 


128  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

those  who  owned  proper!}',  who  are  held  in  perpetual 
hatred  by  those  who  own  none.  Since  1792  the  land- 
owners of  Paris  have  become  of  necessit}'  a  combined 
body.  If,  alas,  the  feudal  families,  less  numerous  than 
the  middle-class  families,  did  not  perceive  the  neces- 
sity of  combining  in  1400  under  Louis  XI.,  nor  in  1600 
under  Richelieu,  can  we  expect  that  in  this  nineteenth 
century  of  progress  the  middle  classes  will  prove  to  be 
more  permanently  and  solidl}'  combined  than  the  old 
nobility?  An  oligarch}^  of  a  hundred  thousand  rich 
men  presents  all  the  dangers  of  a  democracy  with  none 
of  its  advantages.  The  principle  of  "  every  man  for 
himself  and  for  his  own,"  the  selfishness  of  individual 
interests,  will  kill  the  oligarchical  selfishness  so  neces- 
sary to  the  existence  of  modern  society,  and  which 
England  has  practised  with  such  success  for  the  last 
three  centuries.  Whatever  may  be  said  or  done,  land- 
owners will  never  understand  the  necessitj^  of  the  sort 
of  internal  discipline  which  made  the  Church  such  an 
admirable  model  of  government,  until,  too  late,  the}' 
find  themselves  in  danger  from  one  another.  The  au- 
dacity with  which  communism,  that  living  and  acting 
logic  of  democracy,  attacks  society  from  the  moral  side, 
shows  plainly  that  the  Samson  of  to-day,  grown  pru- 
dent, is  undermining  the  foundations  of  the  cellar,  in- 
stead of  shaking  the  pillars  of  the  hall. 


;Sons  of  the  jSoil.  129 


VII. 

CERTAIN  LOST  SOCIAL  SPECIES. 

The  estate  of  Les  Aigues  could  not  do  without  a 
steward  ;  for  the  general  had  no  intention  of  renouncing 
his  winter  pleasures  in  Paris,  where  he  owned  a  fine 
house  in  the  rue  Neuve-des-Mathurins.  He  therefore 
looked  about  for  ^  successor  to  Gaubertin  ;  but  it  is 
ver}^  certain  that  his  search  was  not  as  eager  as  that  of 
Gaubertin  himself,  who  was  seeking  for  the  right  per- 
son to  put  in  his  way. 

Of  all  confidential  positions  there  is  none  that  requires 
more  trained  knowledge  of  its  kind,  or  more  activity, 
than  that  of  land-steward  to  a  great  estate.  The  diflEi- 
culty  of  finding  the  right  man  is  only  fully  known  to 
those  wealthy  landlords  whose  property  lies  beyond  a 
certain  circle  around  Paris,  beginning  at  a  distance 
of  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles.  At  that  point 
agricultural  productions  for  the  markets  of  Paris,  which 
warrant  rentals  on  long  leases  (collected  often  by  other 
tenants  who  are  rich  themselves) ,  cease  to  be  cultivated. 
The  farmers  who  raise  them  drive  to  the  city  in  their 
own  cabriolets  to  pay  their  rents  in  good  bank-bills, 
unless  they  send  the  money  through  their  agents  in  the 
markets.  For  this  reason,  the  farms  of  the  Seine-et- 
Oise,  Seine-et-Marne,  the  Oise,  the  Eure-et-Loir,  the 
Lower  Seine,  and  the  Loiret  are  so  desirable  that  capi- 
tal cannot  always  be  invested  there  at  one  and  a  half  per 
cent     Compared  to  the  returns  on  estates  in  Holland, 

9 


130  iSons  of  the  Soil  I 

England,  and  Belgium,  this  result  is  enormous.  But 
at  one  hundred  miles  from  Paris  an  estate  requires  such 
variety  of  working,  its  products  are  so  different  in  kind, 
that  it  becomes  a  business,  with  all  the  risks  attendant 
on  manufacturing.  The  wealthy  owner  is  really  a 
merchant,  forced  to  look  for  a  market  for  his  products, 
like  the  owner  of  ironworks  or  cotton  factories.  He 
does  not  even  escape  competition  ;  the  peasant,  the 
small  proprietor,  is  at  his  heels  with  an  avidity  which 
leads  to  transactions  to  which  well-bred  persons  cannot 
condescend. 

A  land-steward  must  understand  surveying,  the  cus- 
toms of  the  locality,  the  methods  of  sale  and  of  labor, 
together  with  a  little  quibbling  in  the  interests  of  those 
he  serves ;  he  must  also  understand  book-keeping  and 
commercial  matters,  and  be  in  perfect  health,  with  a 
liking  for  active  life  and  horse  exercise.  His  duty 
being  to  represent  his  master  and  to  be  always  in  com- 
munication with  him,  the  steward  ought  not  to  be  a 
man  of  the  people.  As  the  salary  of  his  office  seldom 
exceeds  three  thousand  francs,  the  problem  seems  in- 
soluble. How  is  it  possible  to  obtain  so  many  qualifi- 
cations for  such  a  very  moderate  price,  —  in  a  region, 
moreover,  where  the  men  who  are  provided  with 
them  are  admissible  to  all  other  employments?  Bring 
down  a  stranger  to  fill  the  place,  and  you  will  pay  dear 
for  the  experience  he  must  acquire.  Train  a  young 
man  on  the  spot,  and  you  are  more  tlian  likely  to 
get  a  thorn  of  ingratitude  in  your  side.  It  therefore 
becomes  necessary  to  choose  between  incompetent  hon- 
esty, which  injures  your  property  tlirough  its  blindness 
and  inertia,  and  the  cleverness  which  looks  out  for 
itself.     Hence  the  social  nomenclature  and  natural  his- 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  131 

tor}'  of  land-stewards  as  defined  by  a  great  Polish 
noble. 

'*  There  are,"  he  said,  "two  kinds  of  stewards:  he 
who  thinks  only  of  himself,  and  he  who  thinks  of  him- 
self and  of  us ;  happy  the  land-owner  who  kys  his 
hands  on  the  latter !  As  for  the  steward  who  would 
think  onh^  of  us,  he  is  not  to  be  met  with." 

Elsewhere  can  be  found  a  steward  who  thought  of  his 
master's  interests  as  well  as  of  his  own.  ("  Un  Debut 
dans  la  vie,"  "  Scenes  de  la  vie  privee.")  Gaubertin 
is  the  steward  who  thinks  of  himself  onl3\  To  repre- 
sent the  third  figure  of  the  problem  would  be  to  hold 
up  to  public  admiration  a  verj^  unlikely  personage,  yet 
one  that  was  not  unknown  to  the  old  nobility,  though 
he  has,  alas  !  disappeared  with  them.  (See  "  Le  Cab- 
inet des  Antiques,"  "  Scenes  de  la  vie  de  province.") 
Through  the  endless  subdivision  of  fortunes  aristocratic 
habits  and  customs  are  inevitably  changed.  If  there  be 
not  now  in  France  twenty  great  fortunes  managed  by 
intendants,  in  fift}"  years  from  now  there  will  not  be  a 
hundred  estates  in  the  hands  of  stewards,  unless  a 
great  change  is  made  in  the  law.  Every  land-owner 
will  be  brought  by  that  time  to  look  after  his  own 
interests. 

This  transformation,  already  begun,  suggested  the 
following  answer  of  a  clever  woman  when  asked  wh\', 
since  1830,  she  stayed  in  Paris  during  the  summer. 
''  Because,"  she  said,  "  I  do  not  care  to  visit  chateaux 
which  are  now  turned  into  farms."  What  is  to  be 
the  future  of  this  question,  getting  daily  more  and 
more  imperative,  —  that  of  man  to  man,  the  poor 
man  and  the  rich  man  ?  This  book  is  written  to  throw 
some  light  upon  that  terrible  social  question. 


132  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

It  is  easy  to  understand  the  perplexities  which 
assailed  the  general  after  he  had  dismissed  Gaubertin. 
While  saying  to  himself,  vaguely,  like  other  persons 
free  to  do  or  not  to  do  a  thing,  "I'll  dismiss  that 
scamp ;  "  he  had  overlooked  the  risk  and  forgotten  the 
explosion  of  his  boiling  anger,  —  the  anger  of  a  choleric 
fire-eater  at  the  moment  when  a  flagrant  imposition 
forced  him  to  raise  the  lids  of  his  wilfully  blind  eyes. 

Montcornet,  a  land-owner  for  the  first  time  and  a  den- 
izen of  Paris,  had  not  provided  himself  with  a  steward 
before  coming  to  Les  Aigues ;  but  after  studying  the 
neighborhood  carefuUj^  he  saw  it  was  indispensable  to 
a  man  like  himself  to  have  an  intermediary  to  manage 
80  many  persons  of  low  degree. 

Gaubertin,  who  discovered  during  the  excitement  of 
the  scene  (which  lasted  more  than  two  hours)  the  diflS- 
culties  in  which  the  general  would  soon  be  involved, 
jumped  on  his  pony  after  leaving  the  room  where  the 
quarrel  took  place,  and  galloped  to  Soulanges  to  con- 
sult the  Soudrys.  At  his  first  words,  "  The  general 
and  I  have  parted ;  whom  can  we  put  in  my  place 
without  his  suspecting  it?"  the  Soudrys  understood 
their  friend's  wishes.  Do  not  forget  that  Soudrj',  for 
the  last  seventeen  years  chief  of  police  of  the  can- 
ton, was  doubly  shrewd  through  his  wife,  an  adept  in 
the  particular  wiliness  of  a  waiting-maid  of  an  Opera 
divinity. 

"We  may  go  far,"  said  Madame  Soudr}^  "before 
we  find  any  one  to  suit  the  place  as  well  as  our  poor 
Sibilet." 

"Made  to  order!"  exclaimed  Gaubertin,  still  scarlet 
with  mortification.  "  Lupin,"  he  added,  turning  to  the 
notary  who  was  present,  "go  to  Ville-aux-Fayes  and 


>So7i8  of  the   Soil,  133 

whisper  it  to  Marechal,  in  case  that  big  fire-eater  asks 
his  advice." 

Marechal  was  the  lawyer  whom  his  former  patron, 
when  bu3'ing  Les  Aigues  for  the  general,  had  recom- 
mended to  Monsieur  de  Montcornet  as  legal  adviser. 

Sibilet,  eldest  son  of  the  clerk  of  the  court  at  Ville- 
aux-Fayes,  a  notary's  clerk,  without  a  penny  of  his  own, 
and  twenty-five  j'ears  old,  had  fallen  in  love  with  tlie 
daughter  of  the  chief  magistrate  of  Soulanges.  The 
latter,  named  Sarcus,  had  a  salary  of  fifteen  hundred 
francs,  and  was  married  to  a  woman  witliout  fortune, 
the  eldest  sister  of  Monsieur  Vermut,  the  apothecary  of 
Soulanges.  Though  an  only  daughter.  Mademoiselle 
Sarcus,  whose  beauty  was  her  only  dowry,  could 
scarcely  have  lived  on  the  salary  paid  to  a  notary's 
clerk  in  the  provinces.  Young  Sibilet,  a  relative  of 
Gaubertin,  by  a  connection  rather  diflScult  to  trace 
through  family  ramifications  which  make  members  of  the 
middle  classes  in  all  the  smaller  towns  cousins  to  each 
other,  owed  a  modest  position  in  a  government  office  to 
the  assistance  of  his  father  and  Gaubertin.  The  unlucky 
fellow  had  the  terrible  happiness  of  being  the  father 
of  two  children  in  three  years.  His  own  father,  blessed 
with  five,  was  unable  to  assist  him.  His  wife's  father 
owned  nothing  beside  his  house  at  Soulanges  and  an  in- 
come of  two  thousand  francs.  Madame  Sibilet  the 
younger  spent  most  of  her  time  at  her  father's  home 
with  her  two  children,  where  Adolphe  Sibilet,  whose 
oflScial  duty  obliged  him  to  travel  through  the  depart- 
ment, came  to  see  her  from  time  to  time. 

Gaubertin's  exclamation,  though  eas}^  to  understand 
from  this  summary  of  3'oung  Sibilet's  life,  needs  a  few 
more  explanatory  details. 


134  Sons  of  the  Soil 

Adolphe  Sibilet,  supremely  unliick}^,  as  we  have 
shown  by  the  foregoing  sketch  of  him,  was  one  of  those 
men  who  cannot  reach  the  heart  of  a  woman  except 
by  wa}^  of  the  altar  and  the  mayor's  office.  Endowed 
with  the  suppleness  of  a  steel-spring,  he  yielded  to 
pressure,  certain  to  revert  to  his  first  thought.  This 
treacherous  habit  is  prompted  by  cowardice  ;  but  the 
business  training  which  Sibilet  underwent  in  the  office 
of  a  provincial  notary  had  taught  him  the  art  of  con- 
cealing this  defect  under  a  gruff  manner  which  sim- 
ulated a  strength  he  did  not  possess.  Man}^  false 
natures  mask  their  hollowness  in  tills  way ;  be  rough 
with  them  in  return  and  the  effect  produced  is  that  of  a 
balloon  collapsed  by  a  prick.  Such  was  Sibilet.  But 
as  most  men  are  not  observers,  and  as  among  ob- 
servers three  fourths  observe  only  after  a  thing  has 
taken  place,  Adolphe  Sibilet's  grumbling  manner  was 
considered  the  result  of  an  honest  frankness,  of  a  capa- 
city much  praised  by  his  master,  and  of  a  stubborn  up- 
rightness which  no  temptation  could  shake.  Some 
men  are  as  much  benefited  by  their  defects  as  others 
by  their  good  qualities. 

Adeline  Sarcus,  a  pretty  young  woman,  brought  up 
by  a  mother  (who  died  three  years  before  her  marriage) 
as  well  as  a  mother  can  educate  an  only  daughter  in  a 
remote  country  town,  was  in  love  with  the  handsome 
son  of  Lupin,  the  Soulanges  notar3'.  At  the  first  signs 
of  this  romance,  old  Lupin,  who  intended  to  marry  his 
son  to  Mademoiselle  Elise  Gaubertin,  lost  no  time  in 
sending  young  Amaur}^  Lupin  to  Paris,  to  the  care  of 
his  friend  and  correspondent  Crottat,  the  notary,  where, 
under  pretext  of  drawing  deeds  and  contracts,  Amaury 
committed  a  varietj-  of  foolish  acts,  and  made  debts, 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  135 

being  led  thereto  by  a  certain  Georges  Marest,  a  clerk 
in  the  same  office,  but  a  rich  3'oung  man,  who  revealed 
to  him  the  m3steries  of  Parisian  life.  By  this  time 
Lupin  the  elder  went  to  Paris  to  bring  back  his  son, 
Adeline  Sarcus  had  become  Madame  Sibilet.  In  fact, 
when  the  adoring  Adolphe  offered  himself,  her  father, 
the  old  magistrate,  prompted  by  young  Lupin's  father, 
hastened  the  marriage,  to  which  Adeline  yielded  in 
sheer  despair. 

The  situation  of  clerk  in  a  goveniment  registration 
office  is  not  a  career.  It  is,  like  other  such  places 
which  admit  of  no  rise,  one  of  the  many  holes  of  the 
government  sieve.  Those  who  start  in  life  in  these 
holes  (the  topographical,  the  professorial,  the  highway- 
and-canal  departments)  are  apt  to  discover,  invariably 
too  late,  that  cleverer  men  than  they,  seated  beside 
them,  are  fed,  as  the  Opposition  writers  say,  on  the 
sweat  of  the  people,  everj'  time  the  sieve  dips  down 
into  the  taxation-pot  by  means  of  a  machine  called  the 
budget.  Adolphe,  working  early  and  late  and  earning 
little,  soon  found  out  the  barren  depths  of  his  hole  ;  and 
his  thoughts  busied  themselves,  as  he  trotted  from  town- 
ship to  township,  spending  his  salary  in  shoe-leather 
and  costs  of  travelling,  with  how  to  find  a  permanent 
and  more  profitable  place. 

No  one  can  imagine,  unless  he  happens  to  squint  and 
to  have  two  legitimate  children,  what  ambitions  three 
3'ears  of  misery  and  love  had  developed  in  this  3'oung 
man,  who  squinted  both  in  mind  and  vision,  and  whose 
happiness  halted,  as  it  were,  on  one  leg.  The  chief 
cause  of  secret  evil  deeds  and  hidden  meanness  is, 
perhaps,  an  incompleted  happiness.  Man  can  better 
bear  a  state  of  hopeless   misery   than   those   terrible 


lae  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

alternations  of  love  and  sunshine  with  continual  rain. 
If  the  body  contracts  disease,  the  mind  contracts  the 
lepros}'  of  envy.  In  petty  minds  that  lepros}'  becomes 
a  base  and  brutal  cupidity,  both  insolent  and  shrinking  ; 
in  cultivated  minds  it  fosters  anti-social  doctrines, 
which  serve  a  man  as  footholds  by  which  to  rise  above 
his  superiors.  Ma}'  we  not  dignify  with  the  title  of 
proverb  the  pregnant  saying,  *'  Tell  me  what  thou  hast, 
and  I  will  tell  thee  of  what  thou  art  thinking  ?  " 

Though  Adolphe  loved  his  wife,  his  hourl}^  thought 
was  :  "  I  have  made  a  mistake  ;  I  have  three  balls  and 
chains,  but  I  have  only  two  legs.  I  ought  to  have 
made  m}'  fortune  before  I  married.  I  could  have  found 
an  Adeline  any  daj^ ;  but  Adeline  stands  in  the  wa}^  of 
my  getting  a  fortune  now." 

Adolphe  had  been  to  see  his  relation  Gaubertin  three 
times  in  three  years.  A  few  words  exchanged  between 
them  let  Gaubertin  see  the  muck  of  a  soul  ready  to 
ferment  under  the  hot  temptations  of  legal  robbery. 
He  warily  sounded  a  nature  that  could  be  warped  to 
the  exigencies  of  any  plan,  provided  it  was  profitable. 
At  each  of  the  three  visits  Sibilet  grumbled  at  his 
fate. 

"  Emploj^  me,  cousin,"  he  said  ;  "  take  me  as  a  clerk 
and  make  me  3^our  successor.  You  shall  see  how  I 
work.  I  am  capable  of  overthrowing  mountains  to 
give  my  Adeline,  I  won't  say  luxury,  but  a  modest 
competence.  You  made  Monsieur  Leclercq's  fortune ; 
why  won't  you  put  me  in  a  bank  in  Paris?" 

"  Some  da}',  later  on,  I  '11  find  3'Ou  a  place,"  Gau- 
bertin would  say;  "meantime  make  friends  and  ac- 
quaintance ;  such  things  help." 

Under  these  circumstances  the  letter  which  Madame 


I 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  137 

Soudry  hastily  dispatched  brought  Sibilet  to  Soiilanges 
through  a  region  of  castles  in  the  air.  Plis  father-in- 
law,  Sarcus,  whom  the  Soudrys  advised  to  take  steps 
in  the  interest  of  his  daughter,  had  gone  in  the  morning 
to  see  the  general  and  to  propose  Adolphe  for  the 
vacant  post.  By  advice  of  Madame  Soudry,  who  was 
the  oracle  of  the  little  town,  the  worthy  man  had  taken 
his  daughter  with  him  ;  and  the  sight  of  her  had  had  a 
favorable  effect  upon  the  Comte  de  Montcornet. 

''  I  shall  not  decide,"  he  answered,  '*  without  thor- 
oughly informing  myself  about  all  applicants ;  but  I 
will  not  look  elsewhere  until  I  have  examined  wiiether 
or  not  your  son-in-law  possesses  the  requirements  for 
the  place."  Then,  turning  to  Madame  Sibilet  he 
added,  ''  The  satisfaction  of  settling  so  charming  a  per- 
son at  Les  Aigues  —  " 

*^The  mother  of  two  children,  general,"  said  Adeline, 
adroitly,  to  evade  the  gallantry  of  the  old  cuirassier. 

All  the  general's  inquiries  were  cleverlj^  anticipated 
by  the  Soudrys,  Gaubertin,  and  Lupin,  who  quietly 
obtained  for  their  candidate  the  influence  of  the  leading 
lawyers  in  the  capital  of  the  department,  where  a  royal 
court  held  sessions,  —  such  as  Counsellor  Gendrin,  a 
distant  relative  of  the  judge  at  Ville-aux-Fayes  ;  Baron 
Bourlac,  attorney-general ;  and  another  counsellor 
named  Sarcus,  a  cousin  thrice  removed  of  the  candi- 
date. The  verdict  of  everj^  one  to  whom  the  general 
applied  was  favorable  to  the  poor  clerk,  —  "so  inter- 
esting," as  they  called  him.  His  marriage  had  made 
Sibilet  as  irreproachable  as  a  novel  of  Miss  Edge- 
worth's,  and  presented  him,  moreover,  in  the  light  of  a 
disinterested  man. 

The  time  which  the  dismissed  steward  remained  at 


138  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

Les  Aigues  until  his  successor  could  be  appointed  was 
employed  in  creating  troubles  and  annoyances  for  his 
late  master ;  one  of  the  little  scenes  which  he  thus 
played  off  will  give  an  idea  of  several  others. 

The  morning  of  his  final  departure  he  contrived  to 
meet,  as  it  were  accidentally,  Courtecuisse,  the  only 
keeper  then  employed  at  Les  Aigues,  the  great  extent 
,  of  which  really  needed  at  least  three. 

"Well,  Monsieur  Gaubertin,"  said  Courtecuisse,  "so 
you  have  had  trouble  with  the  count  ?  " 

^'  Who  told  you  that  ?  "  answered  Gaubertin.  "  Well, 
yes ;  the  general  expected  to  order  us  about  as  he  did 
his  cavalry  ;  he  did  n't  know  Burgundians.  The  count 
is  not  satisfied  with  mj'  services,  and  as  I  am  not  sat- 
isfied with  his  ways,  we  have  dismissed  each  other, 
almost  with  fisticuffs,  for  he  raged  like  a  whirlwind. 
Take  care  of  yourself,  Courtecuisse !  Ah !  my  dear 
fellow,  I  expected  to  give  you  a  better  master." 

'*!  know  that,"  said  the  keeper,  "and  I'd  have 
served  you  well.  Hang  it,  when  friends  have  known 
each  other  for  twentj^  3'ears,  you  know !  You  put  me 
here  in  the  daj's  of  the  poor  dear  sainted  Madame.  Ah, 
what  a  good  woman  she  was  !  none  like  her  now  !  The 
place  has  lost  a  mother." 

"  Look  here,  Courtecuisse,  if  3'ou  are  willing,  3'ou 
might  help  us  to  a  fine  stroke." 

"  Then  you  are  going  to  stay  here?  I  heard  you  were 
off  to  Paris." 

"  No  ;  I  shall  wait  to  see  how  things  turn  out ;  mean- 
time I  shall  do  business  at  Ville-aux-Fayes.  The  gen- 
eral does  n't  know  what  he  is  dealing  with  in  these 
parts;  he'll  make  himself  hated,  don't  3'ou  see?  I 
shall  wait   for  what  turns  up.      Do  your   work   here 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  139 

gently ;  he  '11  tell  you  to  manage  the  people  with  a 
high  hand,  for  he  begins  to  see  where  his  crops  and  his 
woods  are  running  to  ;  but  you  '11  not  be  such  a  fool 
as  to  let  the  country-folk  maul  you,  and  perhaps  worse, 
for  the  sake  of  his  timber." 

"  But  he  would  send  me  away,  dear  Monsieur  Gau- 
bertin,  he  would  get  rid  of  me  !  and  3'ou  know  how 
happy  I  am  living  there  at  the  gate  of  the  Avonne." 

*^  The  general  will  soon  get  sick  of  the  whole  place," 
replied  Gaubertin  ;  "  you  would  n't  be  long  out  even  if 
he  did  happen  to  send  you  away.  Besides,  you  know 
those  woods,"  he  added,  waving  his  hand  at  the  land- 
scape ;  "  I  am  stronger  there  than  the  masters." 

This  conversation  took  place  in  an  open  field. 

*' Those  >4rm//iac  Parisian  fellows  ought  to  stay  in 
their  own  mud,"  said  the  keeper. 

Ever  since  the  quarrels  of  the  fifteenth  century  the 
word  Arminac  (Armagnacs,  Paiisians,  enemies  of  the 
Dukes  of  Burgundy)  has  continued  to  be  an  insulting 
term  along  the  borders  of  Upper  Burgundy,  where  it  is 
differentl}'  corrupted  according  to  locality. 

I*'  He'll  go  back  to  it  when  beaten,"  said  Gaubertin, 
and  we  '11  plough  up  the  park ;  for  it  is  robbing  the 
ople  to  allow  a  man  to  keep  nine  hundred  acres  of 
the  best  land  in  the  valley  for  his  own  pleasure." 

*'  Four  hundred  families  could  get  their  living  from 
it,"  said  Courtecuisse. 
i         '•'•  If  3'ou  want  two  acres  for  j'ourself  you  must  help 
i     us  to  drive  that  cur  out,"  remarked  Gaubertin. 

At  the  very  moment  that  Gaubertin  was  fulminating 
this  sentence  of  excommunication,  the  worthy  Sarcus 
was  presenting  his  son-in-law  Sibilet  to  the  Comte  de 
Montcornet.     They   had   come   with  Adeline   and  the 


140  (Sons  of  the  Soil 

children  in  a  wicker  carryall,  lent  by  Sarcns's  clerk,  a 
Monsieur  Gourdon,  brother  of  the  Soulanges  doctor, 
who  was  richer  than  the  magistrate  himself.  The  gen- 
eral, pleased  with  the  candor  and  dignity  of  the  justice 
of  the  peace,  and  with  the  graceful  bearing  of  Adeline 
(both  giving  pledges  in  good  faith,  for  they  were  totally 
ignorant  of  the  plans  of  Gaubertin),  at  once  granted  all 
requests  and  gave  such  advantages  to  the  family  of  the 
new  land-steward  as  to  make  the  position  equal  to  that 
of  a  sub-prefect  of  the  first  class. 

A  lodge,  built  by  Bouret  as  an  object  in  the  land- 
scape and  also  for  a  home  for  the  steward,  an  elegant 
little  building,  the  architecture  of  which  was  sufficiently 
shown  in  the  description  of  the  gate  of  Blangy^  was 
promised  to  the  Sibilets  for  their  residence.  The  gen- 
eral also  conceded  the  horse  which  Mademoiselle  La- 
guerre  had  provided  for  Gaubertin,  in  consideration  of 
the  size  of  the  estate  and  the  distance  he  had  to  go  to 
the  markets  where  the  business  of  the  propertj^  was 
transacted.  He  allowed  two  hundred  bushels  of  wheat, 
three  hogsheads  of  wine,  wood  in  sufficient  quantit}-, 
oats  and  barley  in  abundance,  and  three  per  cent  on 
all  receipts  of  income.  Where  the  latter  in  Mademoi- 
selle Laguerre's  time  had  amounted  to  forty  thousand 
francs,  the  general  now,  in  1818,  in  view  of  the  pur- 
chases of  land  which  Gaubertin  had  made  for  her, 
expected  to  receive  at  least  sixt}'  thousand.  The  new 
land-steward  might  therefore  receive  before  long  some 
two  thousand  francs  in  money.  Lodged,  fed,  warmed, 
relieved  of  taxes,  the  costs  of  a  horse  and  a  poultry-3-ard 
defrayed  for  him,  and  allowed  to  plant  a  kitchen-garden, 
with  no  questions  asked  as  to  the  da^-'s  work  of  the 
gardener,  certainly  such  advantages  represented  much 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  141 

more  than  another  two  thousand  francs  ;  and  for  a  man 
who  was  earning  a  miserable  salary  of  twelve  hundred 
francs  in  a  government  office  to  step  into  the  steward- 
ship of  Les  Aigues  was  a  change  from  poverty  to 
opulence. 

*'Be  faithful  to  my  interests,"  said  the  general,  ''and 
I  shall  have  more  to  say  to  you.  Doubtless  I  could 
get  the  collection  of  the  rents  of  Conches,  Blang}',  and 
Cerneux  taken  away  from  the  collection  of  those  of 
Soulanges  and  given  to  you.  In  short,  when  you  bring 
me  in  a  clear  sixty  thousand  a  year  from  Les  Aigues 
you  shall  be  still  further  rewarded." 

Unfortunately,  the  worthy  justice  and  his  daughter,  in 
the  flush  of  their  joy,  told  Madame  Soudry  the  promise 
the  general  had  made  about  these  collections,  without 
reflecting  that  the  present  collector  of  Soulanges,  a  man 
named  Guerbet,  brother  of  the  postmaster  of  Conches, 
was  closel}'  allied,  as  we  shall  see  later,  with  Gaubertin 
and  the  Gendrins. 

"  It  won't  be  so  easy  to  do  it,  m}'  dear,"  said 
Madame  Soudr^' ;  "  but  don't  prevent  the  general  from 
making  the  attempt ;  it  is  wonderful  how  easily  difficuit 
things  are  done  in  Paris.  1  have  seen  the  Chevalier 
Gliick  at  dear  Madame's  feet  to  get  her  to  sing  his 
music,  and  she  did,  —  she  who  adored  Piccini,  one  of 
the  finest  men  of  his  da}' ;  never  did  he  come  into  Ma- 
dame's room  without-  catching  me  round  the  waist  and 
calling  me  a  dear  rogue." 

*'  Ha !  "  cried  Soudr}-,  when  his  wife  reported  this 
news,  "  does  he  think  he  is  going  to  lead  the  country 
by  the  nose,  and  upset  everything  to  please  himself 
and  make  the  whole  valley  march  in  line,  as  he  did  his 
cuirassiers?      These  militarv  fellows  have   a   habit   oi* 


142  jSo7is  of  the  Soil 

command  !  —  but  let 's  have  patience  ;  Monsieur  de 
Soulanges  and  Monsieur  de  Ronquerolles  will  be  on  our 
side.  Poor  Guerbet !  he  little  suspects  who  is  trj  ing 
to  pluck  the  best  roses  out  of  his  garland !  " 

Pere  Guerbet,  the  collector  of  Soulanges,  was  tlie 
wit,  that  is  to  sa^^,  the  jovial  companion  of  the  little 
town,  and  a  hero  in  Madame  Soudry's  salon.  Sou- 
dry's  speech  gives  a  fair  idea  of  the  opinion  which  now 
grew  up  against  the  master  of  Les  Aigues  from  Conches 
to  Ville-aux-Fayes,  and  wherever  else  the  public  mind 
could  be  reached  and  poisoned  b^^  Gaubertin. 

The  installation  of  Sibilet  took  place  in  the  autumn 
of  1817.  The  .year  1818  went  by  without  the  general 
being  able  to  set  foot  at  Les  Aigues,  for  his  approach- 
ing marriage  with  Mademoiselle  de  Troisville,  which 
was  celebrated  in  Januar}-,  1819,  kept  him  the  greater 
part  of  the  summer  near  Alengon,  in  the  country-house 
of  his  prospective  father-in-law.  General  Montcornet 
possessed,  besides  Les  Aigues  and  a  magnificent  house 
in  Paris,  some  sixty  thousand  francs  a  year  in  the  Funds 
and  the  salary  of  a  retired  lieutenant-general.  Though 
Napoleon  had  made  him  a  count  of  the  Empire  and 
given  him  the  following  arms,  afield  quarterly^  the  firsts 
azure^  hordure  or^  three  pyramids  argent ;  the  second^ 
vert^  three  hunting  horns  argent;  the  thirds  gules ^  a 
cannon  or  on  a  gun-carriage  sable ^  and^  in  chiefs  a  cres- 
cent or;  the  fourth^  or^  a  crown ^vert,  with  the  motto 
(eminently  of  the  middle  ages  !),  "  Sound  the  charge,"  — 
Montcornet  knew  very  well  that  he  was  the  son  of  a 
cabinet-maker  in  the  faubourg  Saint-Antoine,  though 
he  was  quite  ready  to  forget  it.  He  was  eaten  up  with 
the  desire  to  be  a  peer  of  France,  and  dreamed  of  his 
grand  cordon  of  the  Legion  of  honor,  his  Saint-Louis 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  143 

cross,  and  bis  income  of  one  hundred  and  forty  thousand 
francs.  Bitten  b}-  the  demon  of  aristocracy,  the  siglit 
of  the  blue  ribbon  put  him  beside  himself.  Ttie  gallant 
cuirassier  of  Essling  would  have  licked  up  the  mud  on 
the  Pont-Royal  to  be  invited  to  the  house  of  a  Navar- 
reins,  a  Lenoncourt,  a  Grandlieu,  a  Maufrigneuse,  a 
d'Espard,  a  Vandenesse,  a  Verneuil,  a  Herouville,  or 
a  Chaulieu. 

From  1818,  when  the  impossibility  of  a  change  in 
favor  of  the  Bonaparte  family  was  made  clear  to  him, 
Montcornet  had  himself  trumpeted  in  the  faubourg 
Saint-Germain  by  the  wives  of  some  of  his  friends, 
who  offered  his  hand  and  heart,  his  mansion  and  his 
fortune  in  return  for  an  alliance  with  some  great 
family. 

After  several  attempts,  the  Duchesse  de  Carigliano 
found  a  match  for  the  general  in  one  of  the  three 
branches  of  the  Troisville  famil}-,  —  that  of  the  viscount 
in  the  service  of  Russia  ever  since  1789,  who  had 
returned  to  France  in  1815.  The  viscount,  poor  as  a 
younger  son,  had  married  a  Princess  Scherbellof, 
worth  about  a  million,  but  the  arrival  of  two  sons  and 
three  daughters  kept  him  poor.  His  family,  ancient 
and  formerly  powerful,  now  consisted  of  the  Marquis 
de  Troisville,  peer  of  France,  head  of  the  house  and 
scutcheon,  and  two  deputies,  with  numerous  offspring, 
who  were  busy,  for  their  part,  with  the  budget  and  the 
ministries  and  the  court,  like  fishes  round  bits  of 
bread.  Therefore,  when  Montcornet  was  presented  by 
Madame  de  Carigliano,  —  the  Napoleonic  duchess,  who 
was  now  a  most  devoted  adherent  of  the  Bourbons,  lie 
was  favorably  received.  The  gonernl  asked,  in  rotiiin 
for  his   fortune   and  tender  indulgence  to  his  wife,  to 


144  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

be  appointed  to  the  Ro3'al  Guard,  with  the  rank  of 
marquis  and  peer  of  France ;  but  the  branches  of  the 
Troisville  family  would  do  no  more  than  promise  him 
their  support. 

'*  You  know  what  that  means,"  said  the  duchess  to 
her  old  friend,  who  complained  of  the  vagueness  of  the 
promise.  *'  The}"  cannot  obhge  the  king  to  do  as  they 
wish  ;  the}'  can  onl}"  influence  him." 

Montcornet  made  Virginie  de  Troisville  his  heir  in 
the  marriage  settlements.  Completel}"  under  the  con- 
trol of  his  wife,  as  Blondet's  letter  has  already  shown, 
he  was  still  without  children,  but  Louis  XVIII.  had 
received  him,  and  given  him  the  cordon  of  Saint-Louis, 
allowing  him  to  quarter  his  ridiculous  arms  with  those 
of  the  Troisvilles,  and  promising  him  the  title  of 
marquis  as  soon  as  he  had  deserved  the  peerage  bj^  his 
services. 

A  few  days  after  the  audience  at  which  this  promise 
had  been  given,  the  Due  de  Barr\'  was  assassinated ; 
the  Marsan  clique  carried  the  da}^ ;  the  Villele  ministry 
came  into  power,  and  all  the  wires  laid  by  the  Trois- 
villes were  snapped  ;  it  became  necessary  to  find  new 
wa3's  of  fastening  them  upon  the  miuistr}'. 

"We  must  bide  our  time,"  said  the  Troisvilles  to 
Montcornet,  who  was  always  overwhelmed  with  polite- 
ness in  the  faubourg  Saint-Germain. 

This  will  explain  how  it  was  that  the  general  did  not 
return  to  Les  Aigues  until  Ma}',  1820. 

The  ineffable  happiness  for  the  son  of  a  shop-keeper 
of  the  faubourg  Saint-Antoine  in  possessing  a  young, 
elegant,  intelligent,  and  gentle  wife,  a  Troisville,  who 
had  given  him  an  entrance  to  all  the  salons  of  the 
faubourg  Saint-Germain,  and  the  delight  of  making  her 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  145 

enjoy  the  pleasures  of  Paris,  had  kept  him  from  Les 
Aigues  and  made  him  forget  about  Gaubertin,  even  to 
his  ver3'  name.  In  1820  he  took  the  countess  to 
Burgundj'  to  show  her  the  estate,  and  he  accepted 
Sibilet's  accounts  and  leases  and  deeds  without  looking 
close!}'  into  them  ;  happiness  never  cavils.  The  count- 
ess, well  pleased  to  find  the  steward's  wife  a  charming 
young  woman,  made  presents  to  her  and  to  the  children, 
with  whom  she  occasionally  amused  herself.  She  or- 
dered a  few  changes  at  Les  Aigues,  having  sent  to  Paris 
for  an  architect ;  proposing,  to  the  general's  great  de- 
light, to  spend  six  months  of  every  year  on  this  mag- 
nificent estate.  Montcornet's  savings  were  soon  spent 
on  the  architectural  work  and  the  exquisite  new  furni- 
ture sent  from  Paris.  Les  Aigues  thus  received  the 
last  touch  which  made  it  a  choice  example  of  all  the 
diverse  elegancies  of  four  centuries. 

In  1821  the  general  was  almost  peremptorily  urged 
bj'  Sibilet  to  be  at  Les  Aigues  before  the  month  of  May. 
Important  matters  had  to  be  decided.  A  lease  of  nine 
years,  to  the  amount  of  thirty  thousand  francs,  granted 
by  Gaubertin  in  1812  to  a  wood-merchant,  fell  in  on 
the  15th  of  May  of  the  current  year.  Sibilet,  anxious 
to  prove  his  rectitude,  was  unwilling  to  be  responsible 
for  the  renewal  of  the  lease.  "  You  know.  Monsieur 
le  comte,"  he  wrote,  "  that  I  do  not  choose  to  profit  by 
such  matters."  The  wood-merchant  claimed*  an  in- 
demnity, extorted  from  Mademoiselle  Laguerre,  through 
her  hatred  of  litigation,  and  shared  by  him  with  Gau- 
bertin. This  indemnity  was  based  on  the  injury  done 
to  the  woods  by  the  peasants,  who  treated  the  forest 
of  Les  Aigues  as  if  the}^  had  a  right  to  cut  the  timber. 
Messrs.  Gravelot  Brothers,  wood-merchants  in  Paris, 

10 


k 


146  So7is  of  the  Soil, 

refused  to  pay  their  last  quarter  dues,  offering  to  prove 
by  an  expert  tiiat  the  woods  were  reduced  one-fifth  in 
value,  through,  the}^  said,  the  injurious  precedent  es- 
tablished by  Mademoiselle  Laguerre. 

"  I  have  already,"  wrote  Sibilet,  "  sued  these  men 
in  the  courts  at  Ville-aux-Fayes,  for  they  have  taken 
legal  residence  there,  on  account  of  this  lease,  with  my 
old  employer,  Maitre  Corbinet.  I  fear  we  shall  lose  the 
suit." 

"It  is  a  question  of  income,  my  dear,"  said  the 
general,  showing  the  letter  to  his  wife.  "  Will  you  go 
down  to  Les  Aigues  a  little  earlier  this  year  than 
last?" 

''Go  3^ourself,  and  I  will  follow  you  when  the 
weather  is  warmer,"  said  the  countess,  not  sorry  to 
remain  in  Paris  alone. 

The  general,  who  knew  very  well  the  canker  that 
was  eating  into  his  revenues,  departed  without  his  wife, 
resolved  to  take  vigorous  measures.  In  so  doing  he 
reckoned,  as  we  shall  see,  without  his  Gaubertin.  ; 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  147 

VIII. 

THE   GREAT  REVOLUTIONS  OF  A  LITTLE  VALLEY. 

"Well,  Maitre  Sibilet,"  said  the  general  to  his 
steward,  the  morning  after  his  arrival,  giving  him  a 
familiar  title  which  showed  how  much  he  appreciated 
his  services,  ''so  we  are,  to  use  a  ministerial  phrase, 
at  a  crisis  ?  " 

''  Yes,  Monsieur  le  comte,"  said  Sibilet,  following 
the  general. 

The  fortunate  possessor  of  Les  Aigues  was  walking 
up  and  down  in  front  of  the  steward's  house,  along  a 
little  terrace  where  Madame  Sibilet  grew  flowers,  at 
the  end  of  which  was  a  wide  stretch  of  meadow-land 
watered  b}^  the  canal  which  Blondet  has  described. 
From  this  point  the  chateau  of  Les  Aigues  was  seen  in 
the  distance,  and  in  like  manner  tlie  profile,  as  it  were, 
of  the  steward's  lodge  was  seen  from  Les  Aigues. 

"  But,"  resumed  tlie  general,  ''  what's  the  difficulty? 
If  I  do  lose  the  suit  against  the  Gravelots,  a  money 
wound  is  not  mortal,  and  I  '11  have  the  leasing  of  my 
forest  so  well  advertised  that  there  will  be  competition, 
and  I  shall  sell  the  timber  at  its  true  value." 

"  Business  is  not  done  in  that  wa}^  Monsieur  le 
comte,"  said  Sibilet.  "Suppose  a'ou  get  no  lessees, 
what  will  you  do?" 

"  Cut  the  timber  myself  and  sell  it  —  " 

"You,  a  wood  merchant?"  said  Sibilet.  "Well, 
without  looking  at  matters  here,  how  would  it  be  in 


148  Sons  of  the  Soil, 

Paris?  You  would  have  to  hire  a  wood-j^ard,  pay  for 
a  Ucense  and  the  taxes,  also  for  the  right  of  navigation, 
and  duties,  and  the  costs  of  unloading;  besides  the 
salary  of  a  trustworthy  agent  — " 

''Yes,  it  is  impracticable/'  said  the  general  hastih', 
alarmed  at  the  prospect.  "But  wh}-  can't  I  find  per- 
sons to  lease  the  right  of  cutting  timber  as  before  ? " 

"  Monsieur  le  comte  has  enemies." 

"Who  are  they?" 

"  Well,  in  the  first  place,  Monsieur  Gaubertin." 

"  Do  you  mean  the  scoundrel  whose  place  yea 
took?" 

"  Not  so  loud,  Monsieur  le  comte,"  said  Sibilet, 
showing  fear  ;  "I  beg  of  you,  not  so  loud,  —  my  cook 
might  hear  us." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  I  am  not  to  speak  on 
my  own  estate  of  a  villain  who  robbed  me  ?  "  cried  the 
general. 

"  For  the  sake  of  your  own  peace  and  comfort,  come 
further  away.  Monsieur  le  comte.  Monsieur  Gaubertin 
is  mayor  of  Ville-aux-Fayes." 

"Ha!  I  congratulate  Ville-aux-ra3'es.  Thunder! 
what  a  nobly  governed  town! — " 

"  Do  me  the  honor  to  listen,  Monsieur  le  comte,  and 
to  believe  that  I  am  talking  of  serious  matters  which 
may  affect  your  future  life  in  this  place." 

"  I  am  listening;  let  us  sit  down  on  this  bench 
here." 

"  Monsieur  le  comte,  when  you  dismissed  Gaubertin, 
he  had  to  find  some  employment,  for  he  was  not  rich  —  " 

"  Not  rich  !  when  he  stole  twenty  thousand  francs  a 
year  from  this  estate  ?  " 

"  Monsieur  le  comte,  I  don't  pretend  to  excuse  him," 


r 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  149 


plied  Sibilet.  *'  I  want  to  see  Les  Aigues  prosperous, 
if  it  were  only  to  prove  Gaubertin's  dishonesty  ;  but  we 
ought  not  to  abuse  him  openly  for  he  is  one  of  the  most 
dangerous  scoundrels  to  be  found  in  all  Burgundy,  and 
he  is  now  in  a  position  to  injure  you.'* 

*'  In  what  way?  "  asked  the  general,  sobering  down. 

*'  Gaubertin  has  control  of  nearly  one  third  of  the 
supplies  sent  to  Paris.  As  general  agent  for  the  timber 
business,  he  orders  all  the  work  of  the  forests,  —  the  fell- 
ing, chopping,  floating,  and  sending  to  market.  Being 
in  close  relations  with  the  workmen,  he  is  the  arbiter 
of  prices.  It  has  taken  him  three  years  to  create  this 
position,  but  he  holds  it  now  like  a  fortress.  He  is 
essential  to  all  dealers,  never  favoring  one  more  than 
another ;  he  regulates  the  whole  business  in  their  in- 
terests, and  their  affairs  are  better  and  more  cheaply 
looked  after  by  him  than  they  were  in  the  old  time  by 
separate  agents  for  each  firm.  For  instance,  he  has  so 
completely  put  a  stop  to  competition  that  he  has  abso- 
lute control  of  the  auction  sales ;  the  crown  and  the 
State  are  both  dependent  on  him.  Their  timber  is  sold 
under  the  hammer  and  falls  invariably  to  Gaubertin's 
dealers ;  in  fact,  no  others  attempt  now  to  bid  against 
them.  Last  year  Monsieur  Mariotte,  of  Auxerre,  urged 
by  the  commissioner  of  domains,  did  attempt  to  com- 
pete with  Gaubertin.  At  first,  Gaubertin  let  him  buy 
the  standing  wood  at  the  usual  prices ;  but  when  it 
came  to  cutting  it,  the  Avonnais  workmen  asked  such 
enormous  prices  that  Monsieur  Mariotte  was  obliged 
to  bring  laborers  from  Auxerre,  whom  the  Ville-aux- 
Fayes  workmen  attacked  and  drove  away.  The  head 
of  the  coalition,  and  the  ringleader  of  the  brawl  were 
brought  before   the   police   court,   and  the   suits   coat 


150  Sons  of  the  Soil, 

Monsieur  Mariotte  a  great  deal  of  money ;  for,  besides 
the  odium  of  having  convicted  and  punished  poor  men, 
he  was  forced  to  pa}^  all  costs,  because  the  losing  side 
had  not  a  farthing  to  do  it  with.  A  suit  against  labor- 
ing men  is  sure  to  result  in  hatred  to  those  who  live 
among  them.  Let  me  warn  3'ou  of  this ;  for  if  3-ou 
follow  the  course  you  propose,  you  will  have  to  fight 
against  the  poor  of  this  district  at  least.  But  that's 
not  all.  Counting  it  over,  Monsieur  Mariotte,  a  wor- 
thy man,  found  he  was  the  loser  b}-  his  original  lease. 
Forced  to  pa}^  ready  money,  he  was  nevertheless  obliged 
to  sell  on  time  ;  Gaubertin  delivered  his  timber  at  long 
credits  for  the  purpose  of  ruining  his  competitor.  He 
undersold  him  by  at  least  five  per  cent,  and  the  end 
of  it  is  that  poor  Mariotte's  credit  is  badly  shaken. 
Gaubertin  is  now  pressing  and  harassing  the  poor  man 
so  that  he  is  driven,  they  tell  me,  to  leave  not  only 
Auxerre,  but  even  Burgund}'  itself;  and  he  is  right. 
In  this  way  land-owners  have  long  been  sacrificed  to 
dealers  who  now  set  the  market-prices,  just  as  the  furni- 
ture-dealers in  Paris  dictate  values  to  appraisers.  But 
Gaubertin  saves  the  owners  so  much  trouble  and  worry 
that  they  are  reallj^  gainers." 

*'  How  so?  "  asked  the  general. 

*'In  the  first  place,  because  the  less  complicated  a 
business  is,  the  greater  the  profits  to  the  owners,"  an- 
swered Sibilet.  *' Besides  which,  their  income  is  more 
secure ;  and  in  all  matters  of  rural  improvement  and 
development  that  is  the  main  thing,  as  3-ou  will  find  out. 
Then,  too.  Monsieur  Gaubertin  is  the  friend  and  patron 
of  working-men ;  he  pa3'S  them  well  and  keeps  them 
alwa3's  at  work ;  therefore,  though  their  families  live 
on  the  estates,  the  woods  leased  to  dealers  and  belong- 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  151 

ing  to  the  land-owners  who  trust  the  care  of  their  prop- 
erty to  Gaubertin  (such  as  MM.  de  Soulanges  and  de 
Ronquerolles)  are  not  devastated.  The  dead  wood  is 
gathered  up,  but  that  is  all  —  " 

"That  rascal  Gaubertin  has  lost  no  time!"  cried 
the  general. 

"  He  is  a  bold  man,"  said  Sibilet.  "  He  really  is,  as 
he  calls  himself,  the  steward  of  the  best  half  of  the  de- 
partment, instead  of  being  merely  the  steward  of  Les 
Aigues.  He  makes  a  little  out  of  everybody,  and  that 
little  on  every  two  millions  brings  him  in  forty  to  fifty 
thousand  francs  a  year.  He  says  himself,  '  The  fires 
on  the  Parisian  hearths  pay  it  all.*  He  is  your  enemy. 
Monsieur  le  comte.  My  advice  to  you  is  to  capitulate 
and  be  reconciled  with  him.  He  is  intimate,  as  you 
know,  with  Soudry,  the  head  of  the  gendarmerie  at  Sou- 
langes ;  with  Monsieur  Rigou,  our  mayor  at  Blang}' ; 
the  patrols  are  under  his  influence ;  therefore  you  will 
find  it  impossible  to  repress  the  pilferings  which  are 
eating  into  your  estate.  During  the  last  two  years 
your  woods  have  been  devastated.  Consequently  the 
Gravelots  are  more  than  likel}-  to  win  their  suit.  They 
say,  very  truly :  '  According  to  the  terms  of  the 
lease,  the  care  of  the  woods  is  left  to  the  owner; 
he  does  not  protect  them,  and  we  are  injured ;  the 
owner  is  bound  to  pay  us  damages.'  That's  fair 
enough ;  but  it  does  'nt  follow  that  they  should  win 
their  case." 

"  We  must  be  ready  to  defend  this  suit  at  all  costs," 
said  the  general,  "  and  then  we  shall  have  no  more  of 
them." 

"  You  will  gratify  Gaubertin,"  Remarked  Sibilet. 

"How  so?" 


152  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

*'  Suing  the  Gravelots  is  the  same  as  a  hand  to  hand 
fight  with  Gaubertin,  who  is  their  agent,"  answered 
Sibilet.  "  He  asks  nothing  better  than  such  a  suit. 
He  declares,  so  I  hear,  that  he  will  bring  you  if  neces- 
sary before  the  Court  of  Appeals." 

''The  rascal!    the—" 

"  If  you  attempt  to  work  your  own  woods,"  con- 
tinued Sibilet,  turning  the  knife  in  the  wound,  "  3'ou 
will  find  yourself  at  the  mercy  of  workmen  who  will 
force  you  to  pay  rich  men's  prices  instead  of  market- 
prices.  In  short,  the}'  '11  put  you,  as  they  did  that  poor 
Mariotte,  in  a  position  where  3'ou  must  sell  at  a  loss. 
If  you  then  try  to  lease  the  woods  you  will  get  no  ten- 
ants, for  you  cannot  expect  that  any  one  should  take 
risks  for  himself  which  Mariotte  only  took  for  the 
crown  and  the  State.  Suppose  a  man  talks  of  his 
losses  to  the  government !  The  government  is  a  gentle- 
man who  is,  like  your  obedient  servant  when  he  was  in 
its  employ,  a  worthy  man  with  a  frayed  overcoat,  who 
reads  the  newspapers  at  a  desk.  Let  his  salar}'  be 
twelve  hundred  or  twelve  thousand  francs,  his  disposi- 
tion is  the  same,  it  is  not  a  whit  softer.  Talk  of  reduc- 
tions and  releases  from  the  public  treasury  represented 
by  the  said  gentleman  !  He  '11  onl}^  pooh-pooh  you  as 
he  mends  his  pen.  No,  the  law  is  the  wrong  road  for 
you,  Monsieur  le  oomte." 

"Then  what's  to  be  done?"  cried  the  general,  his 
blood  boiling  as  he  tramped  up  and  down  before  the 
bench. 

"Monsieur  le  comte,"  said  Sibilet,  abruptly,  "  what 
I  sa}'  to  you  is  not  for  my  own  interests,  certainly ;  but 
I  advise  3'ou  to  sell  Les  Aigues  and  leave  the  neighbor- 
hood." 


r 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  153 


On  hearing  these  words  the  general  sprang  back  as 
if  a  cannon-ball  had  struck  him  ;  then  he  looked  at 
Sibilet  with  a  shrewd,  diplomatic  e3'e. 

**  A  general  of  the  Imperial  Guard  running  away 
from  the  rascals,  when  Madame  la  comtesse  likes  Les 
Aigues  !  "  he  said.  "  No,  I  '11  sooner  box  Gaubertin's 
ears  on  the  market-place  of  Ville-aux-Fayes,  and  force 
him  to  fight  me  that  I  may  shoot  him  like  a  dog." 

'*  Monsieur  le  comte,  Gaubertin  is  not  such  a  fool  as 
to  let  himself  be  brought  into  collision  with  3'ou.  Be- 
sides, you  could  not  openly  insult  the  mayor  of  so 
important  a  place  as  Ville-aux-Fayes." 

''I'll  have  him  turned  out;  the  Troisvilles  can  do 
that  for  me ;  it  is  a  question  of  income." 

"  You  won't  succeed,  Monsieur  le  comte  ;  Gaubertin's 
arms  are  long ;  you  will  get  3'ourself  into  difficulties 
from  which  you  cannot  escape." 

"  Let  us  think  of  the  present,"  interrupted  the  gen- 
eral.    ''  About  that  suit?" 

"  That,  Monsieur  le  comte,  I  can  manage  to  win  for 
you,"  replied  Sibilet,  with  a  knowing  glance. 

*'  Bravo,  Sibilet !  "  said  the  general,  shaking  his  stew- 
ard's hand  ;  "  how  are  you  going  to  do  it?  " 

*'  You  will  win  it  on  a  writ  of  error,"  replied  Sibilet. 
*'  In  my  opinion  the  Gravelots  have  the  right  of  it. 
But  it  is  not  enough  to  be  in  the  right,  they  must 
also  be  in  order  as  to  legal  forms,  and  that  they  have 
neglected.  The  Gravelots  ought  to  have  summoned 
you  to  have  the  woods  better  watched.  They  can't  ask 
for  indemnit}^  at  the  close  of  a  lease,  for  damages  which 
they  know  have  been  going  on  for  nine  years ;  there  is 
a  clause  in  the  lease  as  to  this,  on  which  we  can  file  a 
bill  of  exceptions.     You  will  lose  the  suit  at  Ville-aux- 


154  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

Fayes,  possibly  in  the  upper  court  as  well,  but  we  will 
carry  it  to  Paris  and  you  will  win  at  the  Court  of 
Appeals.  The  costs  will  be  heavy  and  the  expenses 
ruinous.  You  will  have  to  spend  from  twelve  to  fifteen 
thousand  francs  merely  to  win  the  suit,  —  but  you  will 
win  it,  if  you  care  to.  The  suit  will  only  increase  the 
enmit}^  of  the  Gravelots,  for  the  expenses  will  be  even 
heavier  on  them.  You  will  be  their  bugbear ;  j'Ou  will 
be  called  litigious  and  calumniated  in  everj^  way ;  still, 
3^ou  can  win  —  " 

"Then,  what's  to  be  done?"  repeated  the  general, 
on  whom  Sibilet's  arguments  were  beginning  to  produce 
the  effect  of  a  violent  poison. 

Just  then  the  remembrance  of  the  blows  he  had  given 
Gaubertin  with  his  cane  crossed  his  mind,  and  made 
him  wish  he  had  bestowed  them  on  himself.  His 
flushed  face  was  enough  to  show  Sibilet  the  irritation 
that  he  felt. 

"  You  ask  me  what  can  be  done,  Monsieur  le  comte? 
Why,  only  one  thing,  compromise ;  but  of  course  you 
can't  negotiate  that  yourself.  I  must  be  thought  to 
cheat  you!  We,  poor  devils,  whose  only  fortune  and 
comfort  is  in  our  good  name,  it  is  hard  on  us  to 
even  seem  to  do  a  questionable  thing.  We  are 
alwa3'S  judged  by  appearances.  Gaubertin  himself 
saved  Mademoiselle  Laguerre's  life  during  the  Revo- 
lution, but  it  seemed  to  others  that  he  was  robbing  her. 
She  rewarded  him  in  her  will  with  a  diamond  worth 
ten  thousand  francs,  which  Madame  Gaubertin  now 
wears  on  her  head."  I 

The  general  gave  Sibilet  another  glance  still  more 
diplomatic  than  the  first;  but  the  steward  seemed  to^ 
take  no  notice  of  the  challenge  it  expressed. 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  155 

* '  If  I  were  to  appear  dishonest,  Monsieur  Gaubertin 
would  be  so  overjoyed  that  I  could  instantly  obtain  his 
help,"  continued  Sibilet.  "He  would  listen  with  all 
bis  ears  if  I  said  to  him :  '  Suppose  I  were  to  extort 
twenty  thousand  francs  from  Monsieur  le  comte  for 
Messrs.  Gravelot,  on  condition  that  the}'  shared  them 
with  me  ?  '  If  your  adversaries  consented  to  that,  Mon- 
sieur le  comte,  I  should  return  you  ten  thousand  francs  ; 
you  lose  only  the  other  tfen,  you  save  appearances,  and 
the  suit  is  quashed." 

"You  are  a  fine  fellow,  Sibilet,"  said  the  general, 
taking  his  hand  and  shaking  it.  "  If  you  can  manage 
the  future  as  well  as  3'ou  do  the  present,  1  '11  call  you 
the  prince  of  stewards." 

"As  to  the  future,"  said  Sibilet,  "you  won't  die 
of  hunger  if  no  timber  is  cut  for  two  or  three  years. 
Let  us  begin  by  putting  proper  keepers  in  the  woods. 
Between  now  and  then  things  will  flow  as  the  water 
does  in  the  Avonne.  Gaubertin  may  die,  or  get  rich 
enough  to  retire  from  business ;  at  any  rate,  you  will 
have  sufficient  time  to  find  him  a  competitor.  The 
cake  is  too  rich  not  to  be  shared.  Look  for  another 
Gaubertin  to  oppose  the  original." 

"  Sibilet,"  said  the  old  soldier,  delighted  with  this 
variety  of  solutions.  "  I'll  give  you  three  thousand 
francs  if  you  '11  settle  the  matter  as  you  propose.  For 
the  rest,  we'll  think  about  it." 

"  Monsieur  le  comte,"  said  Sibilet,  "  first  .and 
foremost  have  the  forest  properl}'  watched.  See  for 
yourself  the  condition  in  which  the  peasantry  have  put 
it  during  your  two  years'  absence.  What  could  I  do? 
I  am  steward  ;  I  am  not  a  bailiflf.  To  guard  Les  Aigues 
properlj^  you  need  a  mounted  patrol  and  three  keepers." 


l56  Sons  of  the  Soil, 

''I  certainly  shall  have  the  estate  properly  guarded. 
So  it  is  to  be  war,  is  it?  Very  good,  then  we  will 
make  war.  That  does  n't  frighten  me,"  said  Montcor- 
net,  rubbing  his  hands. 

''  A  war  of  francs,"  said  Sibilet ;  "  and  you  may  find 
that  more  difficult  than  the  other  kind  ;  men  can  be 
killed  but  you  can't  kill  self-interest.  You  will  fight 
your  enemy  on  the  battlefield  where  all  landlords  are 
compelled  to  fight, — I  mean  cash  results.  It  is  not 
enough  to  produce,  you  must  sell ;  and  in  order  to  sell, 
you  must  be  on    good  terms  with  everybody." 

' '  I  shall  have  the  country  people  on  my  side." 

*'  By  what  means?" 

*'  By  doing  good  among  them." 

♦*  Doing  good  to  the  valley  peasants !  to  the  petty 
shopkeepers  of  Soulanges !  "  exclaimed  Sibilet,  squint- 
ing horribly,  by  reason  of  the  irony  which  flamed 
brighter  in  one  eye  than  in  the  other.  "•  Monsieur  le 
comte  doesn't  know  what  he  undertakes.  Our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  would  die  again  upon  the  cross  in  this 
valley !  If  you  wish  an  easy  life,  follow  the  example 
of  the  late  Mademoiselle  Laguerre ;  let  3'ourself  be 
robbed,  or  else  make  people  afraid  of  you.  Women, 
children,  and  the  masses  are  all  governed  bj'  fear.  Tiiat 
was  the  great  secret  of  the  Convention,  and  of  the 
Emperor,  too." 

''Good  heavens  !  is  this  the  forest  of  Bondy?  "  cried 
the  general. 

"  My  dear,"  said  Sibilet's  wife,  appearing  at  this 
moment,  *'  your  breakfast  is  read}'.  Pray  excuse  him. 
Monsieur  le  comte  ;  he  has  eaten  nothing  since  morning 
for  he  was  obliged  to  go  to  Ronquerolles  to  deliver 
some  barley." 


Sons  of  the  SoiL  167 

tGo,  go,  Sibilet,"  said  the  general, 
he  next  morning  the  count  rose  early,  before  day- 
fc,  and  went  to  the  gate  of  the  Avonne,  intending 
to  talk  with  the  one  forester  whom  he  employed  and 
find  out  what  the  man's  sentiments  really  were. 

Some  seven  or  eight  hundred  acres  of  the  forest  of 
Les  Aigues  lie  along  the  banks  of  the  Avonne  ;  and  to 
preserve  the  majestic  beauty  of  the  river  the  large  trees 
that  border  it  have  been  left  untouched  for  a  distance 
of  three  leagues  on  both  sides  in  an  almost  straight 
line.  The  mistress  of  Henry  IV.,  to  whom  Les  Aigues 
formerly  belonged,  was  as  fond  of  hunting  as  the  king 
himself.  In  1593  she  ordered  a  bridge  to  be  built  of 
a  single  arch  with  shelving  roadway  by  which  to  ride 
from  the  lower  side  of  the  forest  to  a  much  larger  por- 
tion of  it,  purchased  bj'  her,  which  lay  upon  the  slopes 
of  the  hills.  The  gate  of  the  Avonne  was  built  as 
place  of  meeting  for  the  huntsmen  ;  and  we  know  the 
magnificence  bestowed  by  the  architects  of  that  day 
upon  all  buildings  intended  for  the  delight  of  the  crown 
and  the  nobility.  Six  avenues  branched  away  from  it, 
their  place  of  meeting  forming  a  half-moon.  In  the 
centre  of  the  semi-circular  space  stood  an  obelisk  sur- 
mounted by  a  round  shield,  formerly  gilded,  bearing  on 
one  side  the  arms  of  Navarre  and  on  the  other  those 
of  the  Countess  de  Moret.  Another  half-moon,  on  the 
side  toward  the  river,  communicated  with  the  first  by 
a  straight  avenue,  at  the  opposite  end  of  which  the 
steep  rise  of  the  Venetian-shaped  bridge  could  be  seen. 
Between  two  elegant  iron  railings  of  the  same  character 
as  that  of  the  magnificent  railing  which  formerl}^  sur- 
rounded the  garden  of  the  Place  Royale  in  Paris,  now 
so  unfortunately  destroyed,  stood  a  brick  pavilion,  with 


158  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

stone  courses  hewn  in  facets  like  those  of  the  chateau, 
with  a  very  pointed  roof  and  window-casings  of  stone  cut 
in  the  same  manner.  This  old  style,  which  gave  the 
building  a  regal  air,  is  suitable  only  to  prisons  when 
used  in  cities ;  but  standing  in  the  heart  of  forests  it 
derives  from  its  surroundings  a  splendor  of  its  own.  A 
group  of  trees  formed  a  screen,  behind  which  the  ken- 
nels, an  old  falconrj^,  a  pheasantry,  and  the  quarters  of 
the  huntsmen  were  falling  into  ruins,  after  being  in  their 
day  the  wonder  and  admiration  of  Burgund}-. 

In  1595,  the  royal  hunting-parties  set  forth  from  this 
magnificent  pavilion,  preceded  by  those  fine  dogs  so 
dear  to  Rubens  and  to  Paul  Veronese  ;  the  huntsmen 
mounted  on  high-stepping  steeds  with  stout  and  blue- 
white  satiny  haunches,  seen  no  longer  except  in  Wou- 
verman's  amazing  work,  followed  b}^  footmen  in  livery ; 
the  scene  enlivened  by  whippers-in,  wearing  the  high 
top-boots  with  facings  and  the  yellow  leathern  breeches 
which  have  come  down  to  the  present  day  on  the  can- 
vas of  Van  der  Meulen.  The  obelisk  was  erected  in 
commemoration  of  the  visit  of  the  B^arnais,  and  his 
hunt  with  the  beautiful  Comtesse  de  Moret ;  the  date 
is  given  below  the  arms  of  Navarre.  That  jealous 
woman,  whose  son  was  afterwards  legitimatized,  would 
not  allow  the  arms  of  France  to  figure  on  the  obelisk, 
regarding  them  as  a  rebuke. 

At  the  time  of  which  we  write,  when  the  general's 
eyes  rested  on  this  splendid  ruin,  moss  had  gathered 
for  centuries  on  the  four  faces  of  the  roof;  the  hewn- 
stone  courses,  mangled  by  time,  seemed  to  cry  with 
3^awning  mouths  against  the  profanation ;  disjointed 
leaden  settings  let  fall  their  octagonal  panes,  so  that  the 
windows  seemed  blind  of  an  eye  here  and  there.     Yel- 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  159 

low  wallflowers  bloomed  about  the  copings ;  ivy  slid 
its  white  rootlets  into  every  crevice. 

All  things  bespoke  a  shameful  want  of  care,  —  the 
seal  set  by  mere  life-possessors  on  the  ancient  glories 
that  they  possess.  Two  windows  on  the  first  floor  were 
stuffed  with  hay.  Through  another,  on  the  ground-floor, 
was  seen  a  room  filled  with  tools  and  logs  of  wood ; 
while  a  cow  pushed  her  muzzle  through  a  fourth, 
proving  that  Courtecuisse,  to  avoid  having  to  walk 
from  the  pavilion  to  the  pheasantry,  had  turned  the 
large  hall  of  the  building  into  a  stable,  —  a  hall  with 
panelled  ceiling,  and  in  the  centre  of  each  panel  the 
arms  of  all  the  various  possessors  of  Les  Aigues ! 

Black  and  dirty  palings  disgraced  the  approach  to 
the  pavilion,  making  square  inclosures  with  plank  roofs 
for  pigs,  ducks,  and  hens,  the  manure  of  which  was 
taken  awa}'  every  six  months.  A  few  ragged  garments 
were  hung  to  dry  on  the  brambles  which  boldly  grew 
unchecked  here  and  there.  As  the  general  came  along 
the  avenue  from  the  bridge,  Madame  Courtecuisse  was 
scouring  a  saucepan  in  which  she  had  just  made  her 
coffee.  The  forester,  sitting  on  a  chair  in  the  sun,  con- 
sidered his  wife  as  a  savage  considers  his.  When  he 
heard  a  horse's  hoofs  he  turned  round,  saw  the  count, 
and  seemed  taken  aback. 

''  Well,  Courtecuisse,  my  man,"  said  the  general, 
*'  I  'm  not  surprised  that  the  peasants  cut  my  woods 
1  before  Messrs.  Gravelot  can  do  so.  So  3^ou  consider 
your  place  a  sinecure?" 

*' Indeed,  Monsieur  le  comte,  I  have  watched  the 
woods  so  many  nights  that  I'm  ill  from  it.  1  've  got 
a  chill,  and  I  suffer  such  pain  this  morning  that  m}^  wife 
has  just  made  me  a  poultice  in  that  saucepan." 


160  Sons  of  the  Soil 

*'  Mj^  good  fellow,"  said  the  coupt,  "  I  don't  know  any 
pain  that  a  coffee  poultice  cures  except  that  of  hunger. 
Listen  to  me,  3'ou  rascal !  I  rode  through  m}^  forest 
yesterday,  and  then  through  those  of  Monsieur  de  8ou- 
langes  and  Monsieur  de  RonqueroUes.  Theirs  are 
carefull}'  watched  and  preserved,  while  mine  is  in  a 
shameful  state." 

"Ah,  monsieur!  but  the}-  are  the  old  lords  of 
the  neighborhood ;  everybody  respects  their  property. 
How  can  you  expect  me  to  fight  against  six  districts  ? 
I  care  for  my  life  more  than  for  your  woods.  A  man 
who  would  undertake  to  watch  your  woods  as  they 
ought  to  be  watched  would  get  a  ball  in  his  head  for 
"wages  in  some  dark  corner  of  the  forest  — " 

"  Coward  !  "  cried  the  general,  trying  to  control  the 
anger  the  man's  insolent  reply  provoked  in  him.  "  Last 
night  was  as  clear  as  day,  yet  it  cost  me  three  hundred 
francs  in  actual  robbery  and  over  a  thousand  in  future 
damages.  You  will  leave  mj'  service  unless  you  do  better. 
All  wrong-doing  deserves  some  merc3-  ;  therefore  these 
are  my  conditions :  You  may  have  the  fines,  and  I 
will  pay  3'ou  three  francs  for  every  indictment  3^ou 
bring  against  these  depredators.  If  I  don't  get  what 
I  expect,  you  know  what  you  have  to  expect,  and  no 
pension  either.  Whereas,  if  you  serve  me  faithfully 
and  contrive  to  stop  these  depredafons,  I  '11  give  you 
an  annuity  of  three  hundred  francs  for  life.  You  can 
think  it  over.  Here  are  six  ways,"  continued  the 
count,  pointing  to  the  branching  roads  ;  "  there  's  only 
one  for  you  to  take,  —  as  for  me  also,  who  am  not  afraid 
of  balls  ;  try  and  find  the  right  one." 

Courtecuisse,  a  small  man  about  forty-six  years  of 
age,  with  a  full-moon  face,  found  his  greatest  happiness 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  161 

in  doing  nothing.  He  expected  to  live  and  die  in  that 
pavilion,  now  considered  by  him  his  pavilion.  His 
two  cows  were  pastured  in  the  forest,  from  which  he 
got  his  wood ;  and  he  spent  his  time  in  looking  after 
his  garden  instead  of  after  the  delinquents.  Such 
neglect  of  duty  suited  Gaubertin,  and  Courtecuisse 
knew  it  did.  The  keeper  chased  only  those  depredators 
who  were  the  objects  of  his  personal  dislike,  —  young 
women  who  would  not  yield  to  liis  wishes,  or  persons 
against  whom  he  had  a  grudge ;  though  for  some  time 
past  he  had  reall}^  felt  no  dislikes,  for  every  one  yielded 
to  him  on  account  of  his  easy-going  ways  with  them. 

Courtecuisse  had  a  place  alwa3's  kept  for  him  at  the 
table  of  the  Grand-I-Vert ;  the  wood-pickers  feared  him 
no  longer ;  indeed,  his  wife  and  he  received  many  gifts 
in  kind  from  them ;  his  wood  was  brought  in ;  his 
vineyard  dug ;  in  short,  all  delinquents  at  whom  he 
blinked  did  him  service. 

Counting  on  Gaubertin  for  the  future,  and  feeling 
sure  of  two  acres  of  land  whenever  Les  Aigues  should 
be  brought  to  the  hammer,  he  was  roughly-  awakened  by 
the  curt  speech  of  the  general,  who,  after  four  quiescent 
years,  was  now  revealing  his  true  character,  —  that  of  a 
bourgeois  rich  man  who  was  determined  to  be  no  longer 
deceived.  Courtecuisse  took  his  cap,  his  game-bag,  and 
his  gun,  put  on  his  gaiters  and  his  belt  (which  bore  the 
very  recent  arms  of  Montcornet),  and  started  for  Ville- 
aux-Fayes,  with  the  careless,  indifferent  air  and  manner 
under  which  country-people  often  conceal  very  deep 
reflections,  while  he  gazed  at  the  woods  and  whistled  to 
tlie  dogs  to  follow  him. 

*'  What !  you  complain  of  the  Shopman  when  he  pro- 
poses to  make  your  fortune  ?  "  said  Gaubertin.  ''  Does  n't 

11 


162  Sons  of  the  Soil 

the  fool  offer  to  give  3'ou  three  francs  for  every  arrest 
3^ou  make,  and  the  fines  to  boot?  Have  an  understand- 
ing with  your  friends  and  you  can  bring  as  many  indict- 
ments as  you  please,  —  hundreds  if  you  like  !  With  one 
thousand  francs  you  can  buy  La  Bachelerie  from  Rigou, 
become  a  property  owner,  live  in  your  own  house,  and 
work  for  yourself,  or  rather,  make  others  work  for  you, 
and  take  3'our  ease.  Only  —  now  listen  to  me  —  you 
must  manage  to  arrest  only  such  as  have  n't  a  penny  in 
the  world.  You  can't  shear  sheep  unless  the  wool  is 
on  their  backs.  Take  the  Shopman's  offer  and  leave 
him  to  collect  the  costs,  —  if  he  wants  them  ;  tastes 
differ.  Did  n't  old  Mariotte  prefer  losses  to  profits,  in 
spite  of  m}'  advice?" 

Courtecuisse,  filled  with  admiration  for  these  words 
of  wisdom,  returned  home  burning  with  the  desire  to 
be  a  land- owner  and  a  bourgeois  like  the  rest. 

When  the  general  reached  Les  Aigues  he  related  his 
expedition  to  Sibilet. 

"  Monsieur  le  comte  did  very  right,"  said  the  stew- 
ard, rubbing  his  hands;  "but  he  must  not  stop  short 
half-way.  The  field-keeper  of  the  district  who  allows 
the  country-people  to  prey  upon  the  meadows  and  rob 
the  harvests  ought  to  be  changed.  Monsieur  le  comte 
should  have  himself  chosen  mayor,  and  appoint  one  of 
his  old  soldiers,  who  would  have  the  courage  to  carry 
out  his  orders,  in  place  of  Vaudo3'er.  A  great  land- 
owner should  be  master  in  his  own  district.  Just  see 
what  difficulties  we  have  with  the  present  ma3'or ! " 

The  ma^'or  of  the  district  of  Blang}^  formerly  a 
Benedictine,  named  Rigou,  had  married,  in  the  first 
3^ear  of  the  Republic,  the  servant-woman  of  the  late 
priest  of  Blangy.     In  spite  of  the  repugnance  which  a 


I 


Sons  of  the  Soil  163 

married  monk  excited  at  the  Prefecture,  he  had  con- 
tinued to  be  mayor  after  1815,  for  the  reason  that  there 
was  no  one  else  at  Blangy  who  was  capable  of  filling  the 
post.  But  in  1817,  when  the  bishop  sent  the  Abbe 
Brossette  to  the  parish  of  Blangy  (which  had  then 
been  vacant  over  twenty-five  years),  a  violent  opposi- 
tion not  unnaturally  broke  out  between  the  old  apos- 
tate and  the  young  ecclesiastic,  whose  character  is  al- 
ready known  to  us.  The  war  which  was  then  and 
there  declared  between  the  major's  oflfice  and  the  par- 
sonage increased  the  popularity  of  the  magistrate,  who 
had  hitherto  been  more  or  less  despised.  Rigou,  whom 
the  peasants  had  disliked  for  usurious  dealings,  now 
suddenly  represented  their  political  and  financial  inter- 
ests, supposed  to  be  threatened  by  the  Restoration,  and 
more  especially  by  the  clergy. 

A  copy  of  the  "  Constitutionnel,"  that  great  organ  of 
liberalism,  after  making  the  rounds  of  the  Cafe  de  la 
Paix,  came  back  to  Rigou  on  the  seventh  day, — the 
subscription,  standing  in  the  name  of  old  Socquard  the 
keeper  of  the  coffee-house,  being  shared  by  twenty  per- 
sons. Rigou  passed  the  paper  on  to  Langlume  the 
miller,  who,  in  turn,  gave  it  in  shreds  to  any  one  who 
knew  how  to  read.  The  ''  Paris  items,"  and  the  anti- 
religion  jokes  of  the  liberal  sheet  formed  the  public 
opinion  of  the  valley  des  Aigues.  Rigou,  like  the 
venerable  Abbe  Grcgoire,  became  a  hero.  For  him, 
as  for  certain  Parisian  bankers,  politics  spread  a  mantle 
of  popularity  over  his  shameful  dishonesty. 

At  this  particular  time  the  perjured  monk,  like 
Fran9ois  Keller  the  great  orator,  was  looked  upon  as 
a  defender  of  the  rights  of  the  people,  —  he  who,  not 
so  verj'  long  before,  dared  not  walk  in  the  fields  after 


164  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

dark,  lest  he  should  stumble  into  pitfalls  where  he 
would  seem  to  have  been  killed  by  accident !  Perse- 
cute a  man  politically  and  you  not  only  magnify  him, 
but  you  redeem  his  past  and  make  it  innocent.  The 
liberal  part}^  was  a  great  worker  of  miracles  in  this 
respect.  Its  dangerous  journal,  which  had  the  wit  to 
make  itself  as  commonplace,  as  calumniating,  as  credu- 
lous, and  as  siUil}'  perfidious  as  ever}'  audience  made 
up  of  the  general  masses,  did  in  all  probability  as  much 
injury  to  private  interests  as  it  did  to  those  of  the 
Church. 

Rigou  flattered  himself  that  he  should  find  in  a  Bona- 
partist  general  now  laid  on  the  shelf,  in  a  son  of  the 
people  raised  from  nothing  by  the  Revolution,  a  sound 
enemy  to  the  Bourbons  and  the  priests.  But  the  gen- 
eral, bearing  in  mind  his  private  ambitions,  so  arranged 
matters  as  to  evade  the  visit  of  Monsieur  and  Madame 
Rigou  when  he  first  came  to  Les  Aigues. 

When  you  have  become  better  acquainted  with  the 
terrible  character  of  Rigou,  the  lynx  of  the  valley,  you 
will  understand  the  full  extent  of  the  second  capital 
blunder  which  the  general's  aristocratic  ambitions  led 
him  to  commit,  and  which  the  countess  made  all  the 
greater  by  an  oflTence  which  will  be  described  in  the 
further  history  of  Rigou. 

If  Montcornet  had  courted  the  mayor's  good-will,  if 
he  had  sought  his  friendship,  perhaps  the  influence  of 
the  renegade  might  have  neutralized  that  of  Gauber- 
tin.  Far  from  that,  three  suits  were  now  pending 
in  the  courts  of  Ville-aux-Fayes  between  the  general 
and  the  ex-monk.  Until  the  present  time  the  general 
had  been  so  absorbed  in  his  personal  interests  and  in 
his  marriage  that   he  had  never  rememb^ed  Rigou ; 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  165 

but  when  Sibilet  advised  him  to  get  liimself  made 
maj'or  in  Rigou's  place,  he  took  post-horses  and  went 
to  see  the  prefect. 

The  prefect,  Comte  Martial  de  la  Roche-Hugon,  had 
been  a  friend  of  the  general  since  1804 ;  and  it  was  a 
word  from  him  said  to  Montcornet  in  a  conversation  in 
Paris,  which  brought  about  the  purchase  of  Les  Aigues. 
Comte  Martial,  a  prefect  under  Napoleon,  remained  a 
prefect  under  the  Bourbons,  and  courted  the  bishop  to 
retain  his  place.  Now  it  happened  that  Monseigneur 
had  several  times  requested  him  to  get  rid  of  Rigou. 
Martial,  to  whom  the  condition  of  the  district  was  per- 
fectly well  known,  was  delighted  with  the  general's 
request;  so  that  in  less  than  a  month  the  Comte  de 
Montcornet  was  mayor  of  Blangy. 

By  one  of  those  accidents  which  come  about  natur- 
ally, the  general  met,  while  at  the  prefecture  where  his 
friend  put  him  up,  a  non-commissioned  officer  of  the 
ex-imperial  guard,  who  had  been  cheated  out  of  his 
retiring  pension.  The  general  had  alread}',  under  other 
circumstances,  done  a  service  to  the  brave  cavalryman, 
whose  name  was  Groison ;  the  man,  remembering  it, 
now  told  him  his  troubles,  admitting  that  he  was  penni- 
less. The  general  promised  to  get  him  his  pension,  and 
proposed  that  he  should  take  the  place  of  field-keeper  to 
the  district  of  Blangy,  as  a  way  of  paying  off  his  score 
of  gratitude  by  devotion  to  the  new  mayor's  interests. 
The  appointments  of  master  and  man  were  made  simul- 
taneously, and  the  general  gave,  as  ma}'  be  supposed, 
very  firm  instructions  to^  his  subordinate. 

Vaudoyer,  the  displaced  keeper,  a  peasant  on  the 
Ronquerolles  estate,  was  onl}'  fit,  like  most  field- 
keepers,  to  stalk  about,  and  gossip,  and  let  himself  be 


■ 


166  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

petted  by  the  poor  of  the  district,  who  asked  nothing 
better  than  to  corrupt  that  subaltern  authority,  —  the 
advanced  guard,  as  it  were,  of  the  land-owners.  He 
knew  Soudr}^  the  brigadier  at  Soulanges,  for  brigadiers 
of  gendarmerie,  performing  functions  that  are  semi- 
judicial  in  drawing  up  criminal  indictments,  have  much 
to  do  with  the  rural  keepers,  who  are,  in  fact,  their 
natural  spies.  Soudry,  being  appealed  to,  sent  Vau- 
doyer  to  Gaubertin,  who  received  his  old  acquaintance 
very  cordiall}^,  and  invited  him  to  drink  while  listening 
to  the  recital  of  his  troubles. 

"My  dear  friend,"  said  the  ma3'or  of  Ville-aux-Fayes, 
who  could  talk  to  ever}'  man  in  his  own  language, 
"  what  has  happened  to  you  is  likely  to  happen  to  us 
all.  The  nobles  are  back  upon  us.  The  men  to  whom 
the  Emperor  gave  titles  make  common  cause  with  the 
old  nobility.  The}"  all  want  to  crush  the  people,  re- 
establish their  former  rights  and  take  our  property 
from  us.  But  we  are  Burgundians ;  we  must  resist, 
and  drive  those  Arminacs  back  to  Paris.  Return  to 
Blangy ;  you  shall  be  agent  for  Monsieur  Polissard, 
the  wood-merchant,  who  is  contractor  for  the  forest  of 
RonqueroUes.  Don't  be  uneasy,  vay  lad  ;  I  '11  find  you 
enough  to  do  for  the  whole  of  the  coming  year.  But 
remember  one  thing  ;  the  wood  is  for  ourselves  !  Not 
a  single  depredation,  or  the  thing  is  at  an  end.  Send 
all  interlopers  to  Les  Aigues.  If  there  's  brush  or  fag- 
ots to  sell  make  people  buy  ours ;  don't  let  them  buy 
of  Les  Aigues.  You  '11  get  back  to  your  place  as  field- 
keeper  before  long  ;  this  thing^can't  last.  The  general 
will  get  sick  of  living  among  thieves.  Did  you  know 
that  that  Shopman  called  me  a  thief,  me  !  —  son  of  the 
stanchest  and  most  incorruptible  of  republicans  ;  me! -^ 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  167 

tlio  son-in-law  of  Mouchon,  that  famous  representative 
of  the  people,  who  died  without  leaving  enough  to  bury 
him?" 

The  general  raised  the  salarj'  of  the  new  field-keeper 
to  three  hundred  francs ;  and  built  a  town-hall,  in  which 
he  gave  him  a  residence.  Then  he  married  him  to  a 
daugliter  of  one  of  his  tenant-farmers,  who  had  lately 
died,  leaving  her  an  orphan  with  three  acres  of  vine- 
yard. Groison  attached  himself  to  the  general  as  a  dog 
to  his  master.  This  legitimate  fidelit}^  was  admitted  by 
the  whole  community.  The  keeper  was  feared  and  re- 
spected, but  like  the  captain  of  a  vessel  whose  ship's 
company  hate  him  ;  the  peasantry  shunned  him  as  they 
would  a  leper.  Met  either  in  silence  or  with  sarcasms 
veiled  under  a  show  of  good-humor,  the  new  keeper 
was  a  sentinel  watched  by  other  sentinels.  He  could  do 
nothing  against  such  numbers.  The  delinquents  took 
delight  in  plotting  depredations  which  it  was  impossible 
for  him  to  prove,  and  the  old  soldier  grew  furious  at 
his  helplessness.  Groison  found  the  excitement  of  a 
war  of  factions  in  his  duties,  and  all  the  pleasures  of 
the  chase,  —  a  chase  after  petty  delinquents.  Trained 
in  real  war  to  a  lo\'alty  which  consists  in  part  of  play- 
ing a  fair  game,  this  enemy  of  traitors  came  at  last 
to  hate  these  people,  so  treacherous  in  their  conspira- 
cies, and  so  clever  in  their  thefts  that  they  mortified 
his  self-esteem.  He  soon  observed  that  the  depreda- 
tions were  committed  only  at  Les  Aigues  ;  all  the  other 
estates  were  respected.  At  first  he  despised  a  peasan- 
try ungrateful  enough  to  pillage  a  general  of  the  Em- 
pire, an  essentially  kind  and  generous  man ;  presently, 
however,  he  added  hatred  to  contempt.  But  multiply 
himself  as  he  would,  he  could  not  be  ever3'where,  and 


168  So7is  of  the  Soil  | 

the  enem}^  pillaged  ever}' where  that  he  was  not.  Groi- 
son  made  the  general  understand  that  it  was  neces- 
sarj'  to  organize  the  defence  on  a  war  footing,  and 
proved  to  him  the  insufficiency  of  his  own  devoted  ef- 
forts and  the  evil  disposition  of  the  inhabitants  of  the 
valley. 

"  There  is  something  behind  it  all,  general,"  he  said ; 
"these  people  are  so  bold  they  fear  nothing;  they 
seem  to  rely  on  the  favor  of  the  good  God." 

"  We  shall  see,"  replied  the  count. 

Fatal  word !  The  verb  to  see  has  no  future  tense  for 
politicians. 

At  the  moment,  Montcornet  was  considering  another 
difficulty,  which  seemed  to  him  more  pressing.  He 
needed  an  alter  ego  to  do  his  work  in  the  mayor's  office 
during  the  months  he  lived  in  Paris.  Obhged  to  find 
some  man  who  knew  how  to  read  and  write  for  the 
position  of  assistant  mayor,  he  knew  of  none  and  could 
hear  of  none  throughout  the  district  but  Langlume, 
the  tenant  of  his  own  flour-mill.  The  choice  was  dis- 
astrous. Not  only  were  the  interests  of  mayor  and 
miller  diametrically  opposed,  but  Langlume  had  long 
hatched  swindling  projects  with  Rigou,  who  lent  him 
money  to  carry  on  his  business,  or  to  acquire  property. 
The  miller  had  bought  the  right  to  the  hay  of  certain 
fields  for  his  horses,  and  Sibilet  could  not  sell  it  except 
to  him.  The  hay  of  all  the  fields  in  the  district  was 
sold  at  better  prices  than  that  of  Les  Aigues,  though 
the  yield  of  the  latter  was  the  best. 

Langlume,  then,  became  the  provisional  mayor ;  but 
in  France  the  provisional  is  eternal,  —  though  French- 
men are  suspected  of  loving  change.  Acting  by  Rigou's 
advice,  he  played  a  part  of  great  devotion  to  the  gen- 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  169 

il;  and  he  was  still  assistant-mayor  at  the  moment 
rhen,  by  the  omnipotence  of  the  historian,  this  drama 
jgins. 

In  the  absence  of  the  mayor,  Rigoii,  necessarily  a 
lember  of  the  district  council,  reigned  supreme,  and 
wrought  forward  resolutions  all  injuriously  affecting 
le  general.  At  one  time  he  caused  money  to  be  spent 
for  purposes  that  were  profitable  to  the  peasants  onl}^  — 
the  greater  part  of  the  expenses  falling  upon  Les  Aigues, 
which,  by  reason  of  its  great  extent,  paid  two  thirds  of 
the  taxes  ;  at  other  times  the  council  refused,  under 
his  influence,  certain  useful  and  necessary  allowances, 
such  as  an  increase  of  salary  for  the  abb^,  repairs  or 
improvements  to  the  parsonage,  or  "wages"  to  the 
school-master. 

'*  If  the  peasants  once  know  how  to  read  and  write, 
what  will  become  of  us?"  said  Langlume,  naively,  to 
the  general,  to  excuse  this  anti-liberal  action  taken 
against  a  brother  of  the  Christian  Doctrine  whom  the 
Abbe  Brossette  wished  to  establish  as  a  public  school- 
master in  Blangy. 

The  general,  dehghted  with  his  old  Groison,  returned 
to  Paris  and  immediately  looked  about  him  for  other 
old  soldiers  of  the  late  imperial  guard,  with  whom  to 
organize  the  defence  of  Les  Aigues  on  a  formidable 
footing.  By  dint  of  searching  out  and  questioning  his 
friends  and  many  officers  on  half-pay,  he  unearthed 
Michaud,  a  former  quartermaster  at  headquarters  of 
the  cuirassiers  of  the  guard ;  one  of  those  men  whom 
troopers  call  "  hard-to-cook,"  a  nickname  derived  from 
the  mesa  kitchen  where  refractory  beans  are  not  un- 
common. Michaud  picked  out  from  among  his  friends 
and  acquaintances,  three  other  men  fit  to  be  his  helpers, 


170  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

and  able  to  guard  the  estate  without  fear  and  without 
reproach. 

The  first,  named  Steingel,  a  pure-blooded  Alsacian, 
was  a  natural  son  of  the  general  of  that  name,  who  fell 
in  one  of  Bonaparte's  first  victories  with  the  army  of 
Italy.  Tall  and  strong,  he  belonged  to  the  class  of 
soldiers  accustomed,  liJie  the  Russians,  to  obe}',  pas- 
sively and  absoluteh'.  Nothing  hindered  him  in  the 
performance  of  his  dut}' ;  he  would  have  collared  an 
emperor  or  the  pope  if  such  were  his  orders.  He  ig- 
nored danger.  Perfectl}'  fearless,  he  had  never  received 
the  smallest  scratch  during  his  sixteen  years'  campaign- 
ing. He  slept  in  the  open  air  or  in  his  bed  with  stoical 
indifference.  At  an}'  increased  labor  or  discomfort,  he 
merely  remarked,  "  It  seems  to  be  the  order  of  the  da}'." 

The  second  man,  Vatel,  son  of  the  regiment,  corporal 
of  voltigeurs,  gay  as  a  lark,  rather  free  and  easy  with 
the  fair  sex,  brave  to  foolhardiness,  was  capable  of 
shooting  a  comrade  with  a  laugh  if  ordered  to  execute 
him.  With  no  future  before  him  and  not  knowing  how 
to  employ  himself,  the  prospect  of  finding  an  amusing 
little  war  in  the  functions  of  keeper,  attracted  him  ;  and 
as  the  grand  army  and  the  Emperor  had  hitherto  stood 
him  in  place  of  a  rehgion,  so  now  he  swore  to  serve 
the  brave  Montcornet  against  and  through  all  and 
everything.  His  nature  was  of  that  essentially  wrang- 
ling quality  to  which  a  life  without  enemies  seems  dull 
and  objectless,  —  the  nature,  in  short,  of  a  litigant,  or  a 
policeman.  If  it  had  not  been  for  the  presence  of  the 
sheriff's  oflflcer,  he  would  have  seized  Tonsard  and  the 
bundle  of  wood  at  the  Grand-I-Vert,  snapping  his 
fingers  at  the  law  on  the  inviolability  of  a  man's 
domicile. 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  171 

The  third  man,  Gaillard,  also  an  old  soldier,  risen  to 
the  rank  of  sub-lieutenant,  and  covered  with  wounds, 
belonged  to  the  class  of  mechanical  soldiers.  The  fate 
I  of  the  Emperor  never  left  his  mind  and  he  became  in- 
1  different  to  everything  else.  With  the  care  of  a  natural 
daughter  on  his  hands,  he  accepted  the  place  that  was 
now  offered  to  him  as  a  means  of  subsistence,  taking 
it  as  he  would  have  taken  service  in  a  regiment. 

When  the'  general  reached  Les  Aigues,  whither  be 
had  gone  in  advance  of  his  troopers,  intending  to  send 
away  Courtecuisse,  he  was  amazed  at  discovering  the 
impudent  audacity  with  which  the  keeper  had  fulfilled 
his  commands.  There  is  a  method  of  obeying  which 
makes  the  obedience  of  the  servant  a  cutting  sarcasm 
on  the  master's  order.  But  all  things  in  this  world  can 
be  reduced  to  absurdity,  and' Courtecuisse  in  this  in- 
stance went  beyond  its  limits. 

One   hundred   and    twenty-six    indictments   against 
depredators    (most   of  whom  were   in   collusion  with 
Courtecuisse)  and  sworn  to  before  the  justice  court  of 
Soulanges,  had  resulted  in  sixty-nine  commitments  for 
trial,  in  virtue  of  which  Brunet,  the  sheriff's  officer,  de- 
lighted at  such  a  windfall  of  fees,  had  rigorously  enforced 
the  warrants  in  such  a  wa^^  as  to  bring  about  what  is 
^called,  in  legal  language,  a  declaration  of  insolvency ; 
condition  of  pauperism  where  the   law  becomes   of 
[course  powerless.     By  this  declaration  the  sheriff  proves 
»at  the  defendant  possesses  no  propert}^  of  an}'  kind, 
[and  is  therefore  a  pauper.     Where  there  is  absolutely 
nothing,  the   creditor,  like   the   king,  loses   his   right 
bto  sue.     The  paupers  in  this  case,  carefully  selected  b}'' 
Courtecuisse,  were  scattered  through  five  neighboring 
districts,  whither  Brunet  betook  himself  dub'  attended 


172  Sons  of  the  Soil 

b}^  his  satellites,  Vermicheland  Fourchon,  to  serve  the 
writs.  Later  he  transmitted  the  papers  to  Sibilet  with 
a  bill  of  costs  for  five  thousand  francs,  requesting  him 
to  obtain  the  further  orders  of  Monsieur  le  comte  de 
Montcornet. 

Just  as  Sibilet,  armed  with  these  papers,  was  calmly- 
explaining  to  the  count  the  result  of  the  rash  orders  he 
had  given  to  Courtecuisse,  and  witnessing,  as  calml}',  a 
burst  of  the  most  violent  anger  a  general  of  the  French 
calvary  was  ever  known  to  indulge  in,  Courtecuisse  en- 
tered to  pay  his  respects  to  his  master  and  to  bring  his 
own  account  of  eleven  hundred  francs,  the  sum  to  which 
his  promised  commission  now  amounted.  The  natural 
man  took  the  bit  in  his  teeth  and  ran  off  with  the  gen- 
eral, who  totally-  forgot  his  coronet  and  his  field  rank ; 
he  was  a  trooper  once  more,  vomiting  curses  of  which 
he  probably  was  ashamed  when  he  thought  of  them 
later. 

*'  Ha  !  eleven  hundred  francs  ! "  he  shouted,  ''  eleven 
hundred  slaps  in  j'our  face  !  eleven  hundred  kicks  !  — 
Do  you  think  I  can't  see  through  your  lies?  Out  of  my 
sight,  or  I  '11  strike  you  flat !  " 

At  the  mere  look  of  the  general's  purple  face  and  be- 
fore that  warrior  could  get  out  the  last  words,  Courte- 
cuisse was  oflT  like  a  swallow. 

"  Monsieur  le  comte,"  said  Sibilet,  gently,  "you  are 
wrong." 

*'  Wrong !     1,  wrong?  " 

'*  Yes,  Monsieur  le  comte,  take  care,  you  will  have 
trouble  with  that  rascal ;    he  will  sue  jou." 

*'  What  do  I  care  for  that?  Tell  the  scoundrel  to 
leave  the  place  instantly !  See  that  he  takes  nothing 
of  mine,  and  pay  him  his  wages." 


Sons  of  the  Soil  173 

Four  hours  later  the  whole  countrj'-side  was  gossip- 
ing about  this  scene.  The  general,  they  said,  had 
assaulted  the  unfortunate  Courtecuisse,  and  refused  to 
pay  liis  wages  and  two  thousand  francs  besides,  which 
he  owed  him.  Extraoidinary  stories  went  the  rounds, 
and  the  master  of  Les  Aigues  was  declared  insane.  The 
next  day  Brunet,  who  had  served  all  the  warrants  for 
the  general,  now  brought  him  on  behalf  of  Courtecuisse 
a  summons  to  appear  before  the  police  court.  The  lion 
was  stung  by  gnats ;  but  his  misery  was  only  just 
beginning. 

The  installation  of  a  keeper  is  not  done  without  a  few 
formalities ;  he  must,  for  instance,  file  an  oath  in  the 
civil  court.  Some  da3's  therefore  elapsed  before  the 
three  keepers  really  entered  upon  their  functions. 
Though  the  general  had  written  to  Michaud  to  bring 
his  wife  without  waiting  till  the  lodge  at  the  gate  of  the 
Avonne  was  ready  for  them,  the  future  head-keeper,  or 
rather  bailiff,  was  detained  in  Paris  by  his  marriage  and 
his  wife's  familj^  and  did  not  reach  Les  Aigues  until  a 
fortnight  later.  During  those  two  weeks,  and  during 
the  time  still  further  required  for  certain  formalities 
which  were  carried  out  with  very  ill  grace  by  the  author- 
ities at  Ville-aux-Fa3^es,  the  forest  of  Les  Aigues  was 
shamefull}'  devastated  by  the  peasantry,  who  took  ad- 
vantage of  the  fact  that  there  was  practically  no  watch 
over  it. 

The  appearance  of  three  keepers  handsomely  dressed 
in  green  cloth,  the  P^mperor's  color,  with  faces  denoting 
firmness,  and  each  of  them  well-made,  active,  and  capa- 
ble of  spending  their  nights  in  the  woods,  was  a  great 
event  in  the  valley,  from  Conches  to  Ville-aux-Fayes. 

Throughout  the  district  Groison  was  the  only  man 


174  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

who  welcomed  these  veterans.  Delighted  to  be  thus 
reinforced,  he  let /all  a  few  threats  against  thieves,  who 
before  long,  he  said,  would  be  watclied  so  closelj'  that 
they  could  do  no  damage.  Thus  the  usual  proclama- 
tion of  all  great  commanders  was  not  lacking  to  the 
present  war ;  in  this  case  it  was  said  aloud  and  also 
whispered  in  secret. 

Sibilet  called  the  general's  attention  to  the  fact  that 
the  gendarmerie  of  Soulanges,  and  especially  its  briga- 
dier, Soudr3',  were  thoroughly  and  hypocritically  hostile 
to  Les  Aigues.  He  made  him  see  the  importance  of 
substituting  another  brigade,  which  might  show  a  better 
spirit. 

"  With  a  good  brigadier  and  a  company  of  gendarmes 
devoted  to  your  interests,  3'ou  could  manage  the  coun- 
ty," he  said  to  him. 

The  general  went  to  the  Prefecture  and  obtained  from 
the  general  in  command  of  the  division  the  retirement 
of  Soudry  and  the  substitution  of  a  man  named  Viallet, 
an  excellent  gendarme  at  headquarters,  who  was  much 
praised  b^^  his  general  and  the  prefect.  The  company 
of  gendarmes  at  Soulanges  were  dispersed  to  other 
places  in  the  department  by  the  colonel  of  the  gen- 
darmerie, an  old  friend  of  Montcornet,  and  chosen  men 
were  put  in  their  places  with  secret  orders  to  keep 
watch  over  the  estate  of  the  Comte  de  Montcornet,  and 
prevent  all  future  attempts  to  injure  it ;  they  were  also 
particularly  enjoined  not  to  allow  themselves  to  be 
gained  over  b}'  the  inhabitants  of  Soulanges. 

This  last  revolutionary  measure,  carried  out  with  such 
rapidit}'  that  there  was  no  possibility  of  countermining 
it  created  much  astonishment  in  Soulanges  and  in 
Ville-aux-Fayes.     Soudry,  who  felt  himself  dismissed, 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  175 

complained  bitterty,  and  Gaubertin  managed  to  get  him 
appointed  mayor,  wliich  put  the  gendarmerie  under  his 
orders.  An  outer}'  was  made  about  tyranny.  Mont- 
eornet  became  an  object  of  general  hatred.  Not  only 
were  five  or  six  lives  radically  changed  by  him,  but 
man}^  personal  vanities  were  wounded.  The  peasants, 
taking  their  cue  from  words  dropped  by  the  small 
tradesmen  of  Ville-aux-Fayes  and  Soulanges,  and  by 
Rigou,  Langlume,  Guerbet,  and  the  postmaster  at 
Conches,  thought  they  were  on  the  eve  of  losing  what 
they  called  their  rights. 

The  general  stopped  the  suit  brought  by  Courtecuisse 
by  paying  him  all  he  demanded.  The  man  then  pur- 
chased, nominally  for  two  thousand  francs,  a  little 
property  surrounded  on  all  sides  but  one  by  the  estate 
of  Les  Aigues,  —  a  sort  of  cover  into  which  the  game 
escaped.  Rfgou,  the  owner,  had  never  been  willing  to 
part  with  La  Bachelerie,  as  it  was  called,  to  the  posses- 
sors of  the  estate,  but  he  now  took  malicious  pleasure 
in  selling  it,  at  fifty  per  cent  discount,  to  Courtecuisse  ; 
which  made  the  ex-keeper  one  of  Rigou's  numerous 
henchmen,  for  all  he  actually  paid  for  the  propert}'  was 
one  thousand  francs. 

The  three  keepers,  with  Michaud  the  bailiff,  and 
Grtison  the  field-keeper  of  Blang}^  led  henceforth  the 
life  of  guerillas.  Living  night  and  day  in  the  forest, 
they  soon  acquired  that  deep  knowledge  of  woodland 
things  which  becomes  a  science  among  foresters,  saving 
them  much  loss  of  time ;  they  studied  the  tracks  of 
animals,  the  species  of  the  trees,  and  their  habits  of 
growth,  training  their  ears  to  every  sound  and  to  every 
murmur  of  the  woods.  Still  further,  they  observed 
faces,  watched  and  understood  the  different  families  in 


176  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

the  various  villages  of  the  district,  and  knew  the  indi- 
viduals in  each  family,  their  habits,  characters,  and 
means  of  living,  —  a  far  more  difficult  matter  than  most 
persons  suppose.  When  the  peasants  who  obtained 
their  living  from  Les  Aigues  saw  these  well-planned 
measures  of  defence,  they  met  them  with  dumb  resist- 
ance or  sneering  submission. 

From  the  first,  Michaud  and  Sibilet  mutually  disliked 
each  other.  The  frank  and  loyal  soldier,  with  the 
sense  of  honor  of  a  subaltern  of  the  3'oung  garde,  hated 
the  servile  brutality-  and  the  discontented  spirit  of  the 
steward.  He  soon  took  note  of  the  objections  with 
which  Sibilet  opposed  all  measures  that  were  really 
judicious,  and  the  reasons  he  gave  for  those  that  were 
questionable.  Instead  of  calming  the  general,  Sibilet, 
as  the  reader  has  already  seen,  constantly  excited  him 
and  drove  him  to  harsh  measures,  all  the  wliile  trying 
to  daunt  him  by  drawing  his  attention  to  countless 
anno3'ances,  petty  vexations,  and  ever-recurring  and 
unconquerable  difficulties.  Without  suspecting  the  role 
of  spy  and  exasperator  undertaken  b}-  Sibilet  (who  se- 
cretly intended  to  eventualh'  make  choice  in  his  own 
interests  between  Gaubertin  and  the  general)  Michaud 
felt  that  the  steward's  nature  was  bad  and  grasping, 
and  he  was  unable  to  explain  to  himself  its  apparent 
honestj'.  The  enmity  which  separated  the  two  func- 
tionaries was  satisfactory  to  the  general.  Michaud's 
hatred  led  him  to  watcli  the  steward,  though  he  would 
not  have  condescended  to  play  the  part  of  sp3'  if  the 
general  had  not  required  it.  Sibilet  fawned  upon  the 
bailiff  and  flattered  him,  without  being  able  to  get  any- 
thing from  him  beyond  an  extreme  politeness  which 
the  loyal  soldier  established  between  them  as  a  barrier. 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  177 

Now,  all  preliminary  details  having  been  made 
known,  the  reader  will  understand  the  conduct  of  the 
general's  enemies  and  the  meaning  of  the  conversation 
which  he  had  with  what  he  called  his  two  ministers, 
after  Madame  de  Montcornet,  the  abbe,  and  Blondet 
left  the  breakfast-table. 


18 


178  iSons  of  the  iSoil. 


IX. 

CONCERNING  THE  MEDIOCRACY. 

"Well,  Michaud,  what's  the  news?"  asked  the 
general  as  soon  as  his  wife  had  left  the  room. 

"  General,  if  you  will  permit  me  to  say  so,  it  would 
be  better  not  to  talk  over  matters  in  this  room.  Walls 
have  ears,  and  I  should  like  to  be  certain  that  what  we 
say  reaches  none  but  our  own." 

*' Very  good,"  said  the  general;  'Hhen  let  us  walk 
towards  the  steward's  lodge  by  the  path  through  the 
fields  ;  no  one  can  overhear  us  there." 

A  few  moments  later  the  general,  with  Michaud  and 
Sibilet,  was  crossing  the  meadows,  while  Madame  de 
Montcornet,  with  the  abbe  and  Blondet,  was  on  her 
wa}'  to  the  gate  of  the  Avonne. 

Michaud  related  the  scene  that  had  just  taken  place 
at  the  Grand-I-Vert. 

*'  Vatel  did  wrong,"  said  Sibilet. 

"They  made  that  plain  to  him  at  once,"  replied 
Michaud,  "by  blinding  him;  but  that's  nothing. 
General,  you  remember  the  plan  we  agreed  upon, — to 
seize  the  cattle  of  those  depredators  against  whom 
judgment  was  given?  Well,  we  can't  do  it.  Brunet, 
like  his  colleague  Plissoud,  is  not  loyal  in  his  support. 
They  both  warn  the  delinquents  when  the}^  are  about  to 
make  a  seizure.  Vermichel,  Brunet's  assistant,  went 
to  the  Grand-I-Vert  this  morning,  ostensibl}-  after  Fere 
Fourchon  ;  and  Marie  Tonsard,   who  is  intimate  with 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  179 

Bonnebault,  ran  off  at  once  to  give  the  alarm  at 
Conches.     The  depredations  liave  begun  again." 

"  A  strong  show  of  authority  is  becoming  dail}'  more 
and  more  necessarj',"  said  Sibilet. 

'*  What  did  I  tell  you?"  cried  the  general.  *'We 
must  demand  the  enforcement  of  the  judgment  of  the 
court,  which  carried  with  it  imprisonment ;  we  must 
arrest  for  debt  all  those  who  do  not  pay  the  damages  I 
have  won  and  the  costs  of  the  suits." 

"  These  fellows  imagine  the  law  is  powerless,  and 
tell  each  other  that  30U  dare  not  arrest  them,"  said 
Sibilet.  "  The}' think  they  frighten  you!  The}'  have 
confederates  at  Ville-aux-Fayes ;  for  even  the  prose- 
cuting attorney  seems  to  have  ignored  the  verdicts 
against  them." 

"  I  think,"  said  Michaud,  seeing  that  the  general 
looked  thoughtful,  ' '  that  if  you  are  willing  to  spend  a 
good  deal  of  money  you  can  still  protect  the  property." 

*'  It  is  better  to  spend  money  than  to  act  harshly," 
remarked  Sibilet. 

*'What  is  your  plan?"  asked  the  general  of  his 
bailiff. 

"It  is  very  simple,"  said  Michaud.  "Inclose  the 
whole  forest  with  walls,  like  those  of  the  park,  and  you 
will  be  safe  ;  the  slightest  depredation  then  becomes  a 
criminal  offence  and  is  taken  to  the  assizes." 

"  At  a  franc  and  a  half  the  square  foot  for  the  mate- 
rial only,  Monsieur  le  comte  would  find  his  Wall  would 
cost  him  a  third  of  the  whole  value  of  Les  Aigues," 
said  Sibilet,  with  a  laugh. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Montcornet,  "  I  shall  go  and  see 
the  attorney-general  at  once." 

"  The   attorney-general,"    remarked    Sibilet,  gently, 


180  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

"  may  perhaps  share  the  opinion  of  his  subordinate ; 
for  the  negUgence  shown  by  the  latter  is  probablj^  the 
result  of  an  agreement  between  them." 

"  Then  1  wish  to  know  it !  "  cried  Montcornet.  ''If 
I  have  to  get  the  whole  of  them  turned  out,  judges,  civil 
authorities,  and  the  attorney -general  to  boot,  I  '11  do  it ; 
1  '11  go  to  the  Keeper  of  the  Seals,  or  to  the  king 
himself." 

At  a  vehement  sign  made  by  Michaud  the  general 
stopped  short  and  said  to  Sibilet,  as  he  turned  to  retrace 
his  steps,  "  Good  da}-,  my  dear  fellow,"  —  words  which 
the  steward  understood. 

"  Does  Monsieur  le  comte  intend,  as  mayor,  to  en- 
force the  necessar}^  measures  to  repress  the  abuse  of 
gleaning  ?  "  he  said,  respectfully.  "  The  harvest  is  com- 
ing on,  and  if  we  are  to  publish  the  statutes  about  cer- 
tificates of  pauperism  and  the  prevention  of  paupers 
from  other  districts  gleaning  on  our  land,  there  is  no 
time  to  be  lost." 

''  Do  it  at  once,  and  arrange  with  Groison,"  said  the 
count.  ''  With  such  a  class  of  people,"  he  added,  "  we 
must  follow  out  the  law." 

So,  without  a  moment's  reflection,  Montcornet  gave 
in  to  a  measure  that  Sibilet  had  been  proposing  to  him 
for  more  than  a  fortnight,  to  which  he  had  hitherto 
refused  to  consent ;  but  now,  in  the  violence  of  his 
anger  caused  b}^  Vatel's  mishap,  he  instantly  adopted  it 
as  the  right  thing  to  do. 

When  Sibilet  was  at  some  distance  the  general  said 
in  a  low  voice  to  his  bailiff :  — 

"Well,  my  dear  Michaud,  what  is  it;  why  did  you 
make  me  that  sign  ?  " 

"  You  have  an  enemy  within  the  walls,  general,  yet 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  181 

j'on  tell  him  plans  which  you  ought  not  to  confide  even 
to  the  secret  police.'* 

''  I  share  your  suspicions,  my  dear  friend,"  replied 
Montcornet,  "  but  I  don't  intend  to  commit  the  same 
fault  twice  over.  I  shall  not  part  with  another  steward 
till  I  'm  sure  of  a  better.  I  am  waiting  to  get  rid  of 
Sibilet,  till  you  understand  the  business  of  steward  well 
enough  to  take  his  place,  and  till  Vatel  is  fit  to  succeed 
3'ou.  And  3'et,  I  have  no  ground  of  complaint  against 
Sibilet.  He  is  honest  and  punctual  in  all  his  deaUngs  ; 
he  has  n't  kept  back  a  hundred  francs  in  all  these  five 
years.  He  has  a  perfectly  detestable  nature,  and  that 's 
all  one  can  sa^^  against  him.  If  it  were  otherwise,  what 
would  be  his  plan  in  acting  as  he  does?" 

"  General,"  said  Michaud,  gravely,  ''  I  will  find  out, 
for  undoubtedly  he  has  one ;  and  if  3'ou  would  only 
allow  it,  a  good  bribe  to  that  old  scoundrel  Fourchon 
will  enable  me  to  get  at  the  truth ;  though  after  what 
he  said  just  now  I  suspect  the  old  fellow  of  having  more 
secrets  than  one  in  his  pouch.  Tliat  swindling  old 
cordwainer  told  me  himself  thej^  want  to  drive  3"ou 
from  Les  Aigues.  And  let  me  tell  you,  for  you  ought 
to  know  it,  that  from  Conches  to  Ville-aux-Fayes  there 
is  not  a  peasant,  a  petty  tradesman,  a  farmer,  a  tavern- 
keeper  who  is  n't  laying  by  his  money  to  bu}^  a  bit  of 
the  estate.  Fourchon  confided  to  me  that  Tonsard  has 
already  put  in  his  claim.  The  idea  that  you  can  be 
forced  to  sell  Les  Aigues  has  gone  from  end  to  end  of 
the  valley  like  an  infection  in  the  air.  It  may  be  that 
the  steward's  present  house,  with  some  adjoining  land, 
will  be  the  price  paid  for  Sibilet's  spying.  Nothing  is 
ever  said  among  us  that  is  not  immediately  known  at 
Ville-aux-Fayes.     Sibilet  is  a  relative  of  your  enemy 


182  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

Gaubertin.  What  you  have  just  said  about  the  attor- 
ney-general and  the  others  will  probably  be  reported 
before  you  have  reached  the  Prefecture.  You  don't 
know  what  the  inhabitants  of  this  district  are." 

"Don't  I  know  them?  I  know  the}^  are  the  scum 
of  the  earth !  Do  you  suppose  I  am  going  to  yield 
to  such  blackguards?"  cried  the  general.  "Good 
heavens,  I'd  rather  burn  Les  Aigues  myself!" 

"  No  need  to  burn  it ;  let  us  adopt  a  line  of  conduct 
which  will  baffle  the  schemes  of  these  Lilliputians. 
Judging  by  threats,  general,  they  are  resolved  on  war 
to  the  knife  against  you ;  and  therefore  since  3'ou  men- 
tion incendiarism,  let  me  beg  of  you  to  insure  all  your 
buildings  and  all  3^our  farmhouses." 

"  Michaud,  do  you  know  whom  the,y  mean  by  '  Shop- 
man '  ?     Yesterday,  as  I  was  riding  along  by  the  Thune, 
I  heard  some  little  rascals  cry  out,   '  The  Shopman !  g 
here  's  the  Shopman ! '   and  then  they  ran  away."         f 

"Ask  Sibilet;  the  answer  is  in  his  line,  he  likes 
to  make  you  angry,"  said  Michaud,  with  a  pained 
look.  "But  —  if  you  will  have  an  answer  —  well, 
that 's  a  nickname  these  brigands  have  given  you, 
general." 

"  What  does  it  mean?" 

"  It  means,  general —  well,  it  refers  to  your  father." 

"Ha!  the  curs!"  cried  the  count,  turning  livid. 
"  Yes,  Michaud,  my  father  was  a  shopkeeper,  an  up- 
holsterer ;  the  countess  does  n't  know  it.  Oh  !  that  I 
should  ever  —  well !  after  all,  I  have  waltzed  with 
queens  and  empresses.  I  '11  tell  her  this  very  night," 
he  cried,  after  a  pause. 

"  They  also  call  you  a  coward,"  continued  Michaud. 

"Ha!" 


Sons  of  the  Soil  183 

'*  They  ask  how  3011  managed  to  save  yourself  at 
Essling  when  nearl}'  all  your  comrades  perished." 

The  accusation  brought  a  smile  to  tlie  general's  lips. 
*'  Michaud,  I  shall  go  at  once  to  the  Prefecture ! "  he 
cried,  with  a  sort  of  fur}^  ''  if  it  is  onh'  to  get  the  poli- 
cies of  insurance  you  ask  for.  Let  Madame  la  comtesse 
know  that  I  have  gone.  Ha,  ha !  they  want  war,  do 
they?  Well,  the}^  shall  have  it ;  I'll  take  my  pleasure 
in  thwarting  them,  —  ever}"  one  of  them,  those  bour- 
geois of  Soulanges  and  their  peasantr}' !  We  are  in 
the  enemy's  country,  therefore  prudence  !  Tell  the  for- 
esters to  keep  within  the  limits  of  the  law.  Poor  Vatel, 
take  care  of  him.  The  countess  is  inclined  to  be  timid  ; 
she  must  know  nothing  of  all  this ;  otherwise  I  could 
never  get  her  to  come  back  here." 
J  Neither  the  general  nor  Michaud  understood  their 
real  peril.  Michaud  had  been  too  short  a  time  in  this 
Burgundian  valley  to  realize  the  enemy's  power,  though 
he  saw  its  action.  The  general,  for  his  part,  believed 
in  the  supremacy  of  the  law. 

The  law,  such  as  the  legislature  of  these  days  manu- 
factures it,  has  not  the  virtue  we  attribute  to  it.  It 
strikes  unequally  ;  it  is  so  modified  in  many  of  its 
modes  of  application  that  it  virtually  refutes  its  own 
principles.  This  fact  may  be  noted  more  or  less  dis- 
tinctly throughout  all  ages.  Is  there  any  historian 
ignorant  enough  to  assert  that  the  decrees  of  the  most 
vigilant  of  all  powers  were  ever  enforced  throughout 
France?  —  for  instance,  that  the  requisitions  of  the  Con- 
vention for  men,  commodities,  and  money  were  obe3'ed 
in  Provence,  in  the  depths  of  Normandjs  on  the  bor- 
ders of  Brittany,  as  the}"  were  at  the  great  centres  of 
social  life?    What  philosopher  dares  deny  that  a  head 


184  Sons  of  the  Soil  I 

falls  to-da}^  in  such  or  such  department,  while  in  a 
neighboring  department  another  head  sta3's  on  its  shoul- 
ders though  guilt}^  of  a  crime  identicall}^  the  same,  and 
often  more  horrible?  We  ask  for  equalit}^  in  life,  and 
inequality  reigns  in  law  and  in  the  death  penalty ! 

When  the  population  of  a  town  falls  below  a  certain 
figure  the  administrative  system  is  no  longer  the  same. 
There  are  perhaps  a  hundred  cities  in  P>ance  whei'e  the 
laws  are  vigorously  enforced,  and  there  the  intelligence 
of  the  citizens  rises  to  the  conception  of  the  problem  of 
public  welfare  and  future  security  which  the  law  seeks 
to  solve  ;  but  throughout  the  rest  of  France  nothing  is 
comprehended  beyond  immediate  gratification ;  people 
rebel  against  all  that  lessens  it.  Therefore  in  nearly 
one  half  of  France  we  find  a  power  of  inertia  which 
defeats  all  legal  action,  both  municipal  and  governmen- 
tal. This  resistance,  be  it  understood,  does  not  affect 
the  essential  things  of  public  polit}- .  The  collection  of 
taxes,  recruiting,  punishment  of  great  crimes,  as  a  gen- 
eral thing  do  systematically^  go  on ;  but  outside  of 
such  recognized  necessities,  all  legislative  decrees  which 
aff'ect  customs,  morals,  private  interests,  and  certain 
abuses,  are  a  dead  letter,  owing  to  the  sullen  opposition 
of  the  people.  At  the  very  moment  when  this  book  is 
going  through  the  press,  this  dumb  resistance,  which 
opposed  Louis  XIV.  in  Brittan}^,  ma}-  still  be  seen  and 
felt.  See  the  unfortunate  results  of  the  game-laws,  to 
which  we  are  now  sacrificing  yearl}'  the  lives  of  some 
twenty  or  thirty  men  for  the  sake  of  preserving  a  fe\v. 
animals. 

In  France  the  law  is,  to   at  least  twenty  million  o 
inhabitants,  nothing   more  than    a  bit  of  white  paper 
posted  on  the  doors  of  the  church  antl  the  town-iiall. 


I 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  185 

That  gives  rise  to  the  term  "  papers,"  which  Mouche 
used  to  express  legality.  Man}'  mayors  of  cantons  (not 
to  speak  of  the  district  mayors)  put  up  their  bundles  of 
seeds  and  herbs  with  the  printed  statutes.  As  for  the 
district  ma3'ors,  the  number  of  those  who  do  not  know 
how  to  read  and  write  is  really  alarming,  and  the  man- 
ner in  which  the  civil  records  are  kept  is  even  more  so. 
The  danger  of  this  state  of  things,  well-known  to  the 
governing  powers,  is  doubtless  diminishing  ;  but  what 
centralization  (against  which  every  one  declaims,  as  it  is 
the  fashion  in  France  to  declaim  against  all  things  good 
and  useful  and  strong), — what  centralization  cannot 
touch,  the  Power  against  which  it  will  forever  fling  itself 
in  vain,  is  that  which  the  general  was  now  about  to  attack, 
and  which  we  shall  take  leave  to  call  the  Mediocracy. 

A  great  outcry  was  made  against  the  tyranny  of  the 
nobles ;  in  these  days  the  cr^^  is  against  that  of  capi- 
taUsts,  against  abuses  of  power,  which  may  be  merely 
the  inevitable  galling  of  the  social  yoke,  called  Com- 
pact by  Rousseau,  Constitution  by  some,  Charter  by 
others ;  Czar  here,  King  there,  Parliament  in  Great 
Britain  ;  while  in  France  the  general  levelling  begun  in 
1789  and  continued  in  1830  has  paved  the  way  for  the 
juggling  dominion  of  the  middle  classes^  and  delivered 
the  nation  into  their  hands  without  escape.  The  por- 
tra^al  of  one  fact  alone,  unfortunately  only  too  common 
in  these  days,  namely,  the  subjection  of  a  canton,  a  Httle 
town,  a  sub-prefecture,  to  the  will  of  a  family  clique,  — 
ill  short,  the  power  acquired  b}'  Gaubertin,  — will  show 
this  social  danger  better  than  all  dogmatic  statements 
put  together.  Many  oppressed  communities  will  recog- 
nize the  truth  of  this  picture  ;  many  persons  secretly 
and  silentl}'  crushed  by  this  tyranny  will  find  in  these 


186  Sons  of  the  Soil 

words  an  obituary,  as  it  were,  which  ma}^  half  console 
them  for  their  hidden  woes. 

At  the  very  moment  when  the  general  imagined  him- 
self to  be  renewing  a  warfare  in  which  there  had  really 
been  no  truce,  his  former  steward  had  just  completed 
the  last  meshes  of  the  net-work  in  which  he  now  held 
the  whole  arrondissement  of  Ville-aux-Fayes.  To 
avoid  too  many  explanations  it  is  necessarj-  to  state, 
once  for  all,  succinctl}',  the  genealogical  ramifications 
by  means  of  which  Gaubertin  wound  himself  about  the 
country,  as  a  boa-constrictor  winds  around  a  tree,  — 
with  such- art  that  a  passing  traveller  thinks  he  beholds 
some  natural  effect  of  the  tropical  vegetation. 

In  1793  there  were  three  brothers  of  the  name  of 
Mouchon  in  the  valley  of  the  Avonne.  After  1793 
they  changed  the  name  of  the  valley  to  that  of  the 
Valley  des  Aigues,  out  of  hatred  to  the  old  nobility. 

The  eldest  brother,  steward  of  the  property  of  the 
Ronquerolles  family,  was  elected  deputy  of  the  depart- 
ment to  the  Convention.  Like  his  friend,  Gaubertin's 
father,  the  prosecutor  of  those  days,  who  saved  the 
Soulanges  famil}-,  he  saved  the  property  and  the  lives 
of  the  Ronquerolles.  He  had  two  daughters ;  one 
married  to  Gendrin,  the  lawyer,  the  other  to  Gauber- 
tin.    He  died  in  1804. 

The  second,  through  the  influence  of  his  elder  brother, 
was  made  postmaster  at  Conches.  His  only  child  was 
a  daughter,  married  to  a  rich  farmer  named  Guerbet. 
He  died  in  1817. 

The  last  of  the  Mouchons,  who  was  a  priest,  and  the 
curate  of  Ville-aux-Fa3'es  before  the  Revolution,  was 
again  a  priest  after  the  re-establishment  of  Catholic 
worship,  and  again  the  curate  of  the  same  little  town. 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  187 

He  was  not  willing  to  take  the  oath,  and  was  hidden  for 
a  long  time  in  the  hermitage  of  Les  Aigues,  under  the 
protection  of  the  Gaubertins,  father  and  son.  Now 
about  sixt3'-seven  years  of  age,  he  was  treated  with 
universal  respect  and  affection,  owing  to  the  harmony 
of  his  nature  with  that  of  the  inhai)itants.  Parsimoni- 
ous to  the  verge  of  avarice,  he  was  thought  to  be  rich, 
and  the  credit  of  being  so  increased  the  respect  that 
was  shown  to  him.  Monseigneur  the  bishop  paid  the 
greatest  attention  to  the  Abbe  Mouclion,  who  was 
always  spoken  of  as  the  venerable  curate  of  Ville-aux- 
Fayes ;  and  the  fact  that  he  had  several  times  refused 
to  go  and  live  in  a  splendid  parsonage  attached  to  the 
Prefecture,  where  Monseigneur  wished  to  settle  him, 
made  him  dearer  still  to  his  people. 

Gaubertin,  now  mayor  of  Ville-aux-Fayes,  received 
steady  support  from  his  brother-in-law  Gendrin,  who 
was  judge  of  the  municipal  court.  Gaubertin  the 
younger,  the  solicitor  who  had  the  most  practice  before 
this  court  and  much  repute  in  the  arrondissement,  was 
already  thinking  of  selling  his  practice  after  five  years* 
exercise  of  it.  He  wanted  to  succeed  his  Uncle  Gen- 
drin as  counsellor  whenever  the  latter  should  retire 
from  the  profession.  Gendrin's  only  son  was  com- 
missioner of  mortgages. 

Soudry's  son,  who  for  the  last  two  j'ears  had  been 
prosecuting-attorney  at  the  prefecture,  was  Gaubertin's 
henchman.  The  clever  Madame  Soudry  had  secured 
the  future  of  her  husband's  son  by  marrying  him  to 
Rigou's  only  daughter.  The  united  fortunes  of  the 
Soudrys  and  the  ex-monk,  which  would  come  even- 
tually to  the  attorne}',  made  that  young  man  one  of  the 
most  important  personages  of  the  department. 


188  Sons  of  the  jSoiL 

The  sub-prefect  of  Ville-aux-Fayes,  Monsieur  des 
Lupeaulx,  nephew  of  the  general-secretary  of  one  of  the 
most  important  ministries  in  Paris,  was  tlie  prospective 
husband  of  Mademoiselle  Elise  Gaubertin,  the  ma3or's 
youngest  daughter,  whose  dowry,  like  that  of  her  elder 
sister,  was  two  hundred  thousand  francs,  not  to  speak 
of  "  expectations."  This  functionary  showed  much 
sense,  though  not  aware  of  it,  in  falHng  in  love  with 
Mademoiselle  Elise  when  he  first  arrived  at  Ville-aux- 
Fayes,  in  1819.  If  it  had  not  been  for  his  social  posi- 
tion, which  made  him  "  eligible,"  he  would  long  ago  have 
been  forced  to  ask  for  his  exchange.  But  Gaubertin 
in  marrying  him  to  his  daughter  thought  much  more  of 
the  uncle,  the  general-secretary,  than  of  the  nephew ; 
and  in  return,  the  uncle,  for  the  sake  of  his  nephew, 
gave  all  his  influence  to  Gaubertin. 

Thus  the  Church,  the  magistracy  both  removable 
and  irremovable,  the  municipality^  and  the  prefecture, 
the  four  feet  of  power,  walked  as  the  mayor  pleased. 
Let  us  now  see  how  that  functionary  strengthened  him- 
sfelf  in  the  spheres  above  and  below  that  in  which  he 
worked. 

The  department  to  which  Ville-aux-Fayes  belongs  is 
one  the  number  of  whose  population  gives  it  the  right  to 
elect  six  deputies.  Ever  since  the  creation  of  the  Left 
Centre  of  the  Chamber,  the  arrondissement  of  Ville-aux- 
Fayes  had  sent  a  deputy  named  Leclercq,  formerly 
banking  agent  of  the  wine  department  of  the  custom- 
house, a  son-in-law  of  Gaubertin,  and  now  a  governor 
of  the  Bank  of  France.  The  number  of  electors  whicii 
this  rich  valley  sent  to  tiie  electoral  college  was  suffi- 
cient to  insure,  if  only  through  private  dealing,  the 
constant  appointment  of  Monsieur  de  RonqueroUes,  the 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  189 

patron  of  the  Mouchon  family.  The  voters  of  Ville- 
aux-Fayes  lent  their  support  to  the  prefect,  on  condi- 
tion that  the  Marquis  de  Ronquerolles  was  maintained 
in  the  college.  Thus  Gaubertin,  who  was  the  first  to 
broach  the  idea  of  this  arrangement,  was  favorabh' 
received  at  the  Prefecture,  which  he  often,  in  return, 
saved  from  petty  annoyances.  The  prefect  always 
selected  three  firm  ministerialists,  and  two  deputies  of 
the  Left  Centre.  The  latter,  one  of  them  being  the 
Marquis  de  Ronquerolles,  brother-in-law  of  the  Comte 
de  Serisy,  and  the  other  a  governor  of  the  Bank  of 
France,  gave  little  or  no  alarm  to  the  cabinet,  and  the 
elections  in  this  department  were  rated  excellent  at  the 
ministr}'  of  the  interior. 

The  Comte  de  Soulanges,  peer  of  France,  selected  to 
be  the  next  marshal,  and  faithful  to  the  Bourbons, 
knew  that  his  forests  and  other  property  were  all  well- 
managed  by  the  notary  Lupin,  and  well- watched  by 
Soudr3\  He  was  a  patron  of  Gendrin*s,  having  ob- 
tained his  appointment  as  judge  partly  by  the  help  of 
Monsieur  de  Ronquerolles. 

Messieurs  Leclercq  and  de  Ronquerolles  sat  in  the 
Left  Centre,  but  nearer  to  the  left  than  to  the  centre,  — 
a  political  position  which  offers  great  advantages  to 
those  who  regard  their  political  conscience  as  a  garment. 

The  brother  of  Monsieur  Leclercq  had  obtained  the 
situation  of  collector  at  Ville-aux  Fayes,  and  Leclercq 
himself,  Gaubertin's  son-in-law,  had  lately  bought  a  fine 
estate  beyond  the  valley  of  the  Avonne,  which  brodght 
him  in  a  rental  of  thirty  thousand  francs,  with  park  and 
chateau  and  a  controlling  influence  in  its  own  canton. 

Thus,  in  the  upper  regions  of  the  State,  in  both  Cham- 
bers, and  in  the  chief  ministerial  department,  Gaubertin 


190  iSons  of  the  Soil 

could  rely  on  an  influence  that  was  powerful  and  also 
active,  and  which  he  was  careful  not  to  weary  with  un- 
important requests. 

The  counsellor  Gendrin,  appointed  judge  by  the 
Chamber,  was  the  leading  spirit  of  the  Supreme  Court ; 
for  the  chief  justice,  one  of  the  three  ministerial  depu- 
ties, left  the  management  of  it  to  Gendrin  during  half 
the  year.  The  counsel  for  the  Prefecture,  a  cousui  of 
Sarcus,  called  ''  Sarcus  the  rich,"  was  the  right-hand 
man  of  the  prefect,  himself  a  deputy.  Even  without  the 
family  reasons  which  allied  Gaubertin  and  young  des 
Lupeaulx,  a  brother  of  Madame  Sarcus  would  still  have 
been  desirable  as  sub-prefect  to  the  arrondissement  of 
Ville-aux-Fayes.  Madame  Sarcus,  the  counsellor's 
wife,  was  a  Vallat  of  Soulanges,  a  family  connected 
with  the  Gaubertins,  and  she  was  said  to  have  "  distin- 
guished "  the  notary  Lupin  in  her  youth.  Though  she 
was  now  forty-five  years  old,  with  a  son  in  the  school  of 
engineers,  Lupin  never  went  to  the  Prefecture  without 
paying  his  respects  and  dining  with  her. 

The  nephew  of  Guerbet,  the  postmaster,  whose  father 
was,  as  we  have  seen,  collector  of  Soulanges,  held  the 
important  situation  of  examining  judge  in  the  municipal 
court  of  Ville-aux-Fayes.  The  third  judge,  son  of 
Corbinet,  the  notary,  belonged  body  and  soul  to  the 
all-powerful  m.ayor ;  and,  finally,  young  Vigor,  son  of 
the  lieutenant  of  the  gendarmerie,  was  the  substitute 
judge. 

Sibilet's  father,  sheriff  of  the  court,  had  married  his 
sister  to  Monsieur  Vigor  the  lieutenant,  and  that  indi- 
vidual, father  of  six  children,  was  cousin  of  the  father 
of  Gaubertin  through  his  wife,  a  Gaubertin-Vallat. 
Eighteen  months  previously  the  united  eflforts  of  the 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  191 

two  deputies,  Monsieur  de  Soulanges  and  Gaubertin, 
had  created  the  place  of  commissary  of  police  for  the 
slieriff's  second  son. 

Sibilet's  eldest  daughter  married  Monsieur  Herv^,  a 
schoolmaster,  whose  school  was  transformed  into  a 
college  as  a  result  of  this  marriage,  so  that  for  the 
past  3'ear  Soulanges  had  rejoiced  in  the  presence  of  a 
professor. 

The  sheriffs  youngest  son-  was  employed  on  the  gov- 
ernment domains,  with  the  promise  of  succeeding  the 
clerk  of  registrations  so  soon  as  that  officer  had  com- 
pleted the  term  of  service  which  enabled  him  to  retire 
on  a  pension. 

The  youngest  Sibilet  girl,  now  sixteen  years  old,  was 
betrothed  to  Corbinet,  brother  of  the  notary.  And  an 
old  maid,  Mademoiselle  Gaubertin- Vail  at,  sister  of 
Madame  Sibilet,  the  sheriffs  wife,  held  the  office  for  the 
sale  of  stamped  paper. 

Thus,  wherever  we  turn  in  Ville-aux-Fayes  we  meet 
some  member  of  the  invisible  coalition,  whose  avowed 
chief,  recognized  as  such  bj^  every  one,  great  and 
small,  was  the  mayor  of  the  town,  the  general  agent 
for  the  entire  timber  business,  Gaubertin  ! 

If  we  turn  to  the  other  end  of  the  valley  of  the 
Avonne  we  shall  see  that  Gaubertin  ruled  at  Soulanges 
through  the  Soudrys,  through  Lupin  the  assistant 
mayor  and  steward  of  the  Soulanges  estate,  who  was 
necessaril}'  in  constant  communication  with  the  Comte 
de  Soulanges,  through  Sarcus,  justice  of  the  peace, 
through  Guerbet,  the  collector,  through  Gourdin,  the 
doctor,  who  had  married  a  Gendrin-Vatebled.  He  gov- 
erned Blangy  through  Rigou,  Conches  through  the  post- 
master, the  despotic  ruler  of  his  own  district. 


I 


192  Sons  of  the  Soil 

Gaubertin's  influence  was  so  great  and  powerful  that 
even  the  investments  and  the  savings  of  Rigou,  Soudry, 
Gendrin,  Guerbet,  Lupin,  even  Sarcus  the  rich  himself, 
were  managed  by  his  advice.  The  town  of  Ville-aux- 
Fayes  beUeved  implicitly  in  its  mayor.  Gaubertin's 
ability  was  not  less  extolled  than  his  honest}'  and  his 
kindness  ;  he  was  the  servant  of  his  relatives  and  con- 
stituents (always  with  an  eye  to  a  return  of  benefits), 
and  the  whole  municipality  adored  him.  The  town 
never  ceased  to  blame  Monsieur  Mariotte,  of  Auxerre, 
for  having  opposed  and  thwarted  that  worthy  Monsieur 
Gaubertin. 

Not  aware  of  their  strength,  no  occasion  for  display- 
ing it  having  arisen,  the  bourgeoisie  of  Ville-aux-Fa3es 
contented  themselves  with  boasting  that  no  strangers 
intermeddled  in  their  affairs,  and  they  believed  them- 
selves excellent  citizens  and  faithful  public  servants. 
Nothing,  however,  escaped  their  despotic  rule,  which 
in  itself  was  not  perceived,  the  result  being  considered 
a  triumph  of  the  localit3^ 

The  onl}'  stranger  in  this  family  communit}^  was  the 
government  engineer  in  the  highway  department ;  and 
his  dismissal  in  favor  of  the  son  of  Sarcus  the  rich  was 
now  being  pressed,  with  a  fair  chance  that  this  one  weak 
thread  in  the  net  would  soon  be  strengthened.  And 
yet  this  powerful  league,  which  monopolized  all  duties 
both  public  and  private,  sucked  the  resources  of  the 
region,  and  fastened  on  power  like  limpets  to  a  ship, 
escaped  all  notice  so  completel}^  that  General  Mont- 
cornet  had  no  suspicion  of  it.  The  prefect  boasted  of 
the  prosperit}^  of  Ville-aux-Fayes  and  its  arrondisse- 
ment;  even  the  minister  of  the  interior  was  heard  to 
remark:  ''  There's  a  model  sub-prefecture,  which  runs 


^unti  of  the  Soil.  193 

on  wheels ;  we  should  be  luckv  indeed  if  all  were  like 
it."  Family  designs  were  so  involved  with  local  inter- 
ests that  here,  as  in  man}^  other  little  towns  and  even 
prefectures,  a  functionarj-  who  did  not  belong  to  the 
place  would  have  been  forced  to  resign  within  a  year. 

When  this  despotic  middle-class  cousinry  seizes  a 
victim,  he  is  so  carefully  gagged  and  bound  that  com- 
plaint is  impossible  ;  he  is  smeared  with  slime  and  wax 
like  a  snail  in  a  beehive.  This  invisible,  imperceptible 
tyranny  is  upheld  by  powerful  reasons,  —  such  as  the 
wish  to  be  surrounded  by  their  own  family,  to  keep 
property  in  their  own  hands,  the  mutual  help  the}^ 
ought  to  lend  each  other,  the  guarantees  given  to  the 
administration  by  the  fact  that  their  agent  is  under  the 
eyes  of  his  fellow-citizens  and  neighbors.  What  does 
all  this  lead  to  ?  To  the  fact  that  local  interests  super- 
sede all  questions  of  public  interest;  the  centralized 
will  of  Paris  is  frequentl}'  overthrown  in  the  provinces, 
the  truth  of  things  is  disguised,  and  country  communi- 
ties snap  their  fingers  at  government.  In  short,  after 
the  main  public  necessities  have  been  attended  to,  it  will 
be  seen  that  the  laws,  instead  of  acting  upon  the  masses, 
receive  their  impulse  from  them  ;  the  populations  adapt 
the  law  to  themselves  and  not  themselves  to  the  law. 

Whoever  has  travelled  in  the  south  or  west  of  France, 
or  in  Alsace,  in  an}'  other  way  than  from  inn  to  inn  to 
see  buildings  and  landscapes,  will  surely  admit  the  truth 
of  these  remarks.  The  results  of  middle-class  nepotism 
may  be,  at  present,  merely  isolated  evils ;  but  the  ten- 
denc3'  of  existing  laws  is  to  increase  them.  This  low- 
level  despotism  can  and  will  cause  great  disasters,  and 
the  events  of  the  drama  about  to  be  played  in  the  valley 
of  Les  Aigues  will  prove  it. 

13 


194  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

The  monarchical  and  imperial  systems,  more  rashly 
overthrown  than  people  realize,  remedied  these  abuses 
by  means  of  certain  consecrated  lives,  by  classifications 
and  categories  and  by  those  particular  counterpoises 
since  so  absurdly  defined  as  ''  privileges."  There  are 
no  privileges  now,  when  ever}'  human  being  is  free  lo 
climb  the  greased  pole  of  power.  But  surely  it  would 
be  safer  to  allow  open  and  avowed  privileges  than 
those  which  are  underhand,  based  on  trickery,  subver- 
sive of  what  should  be  public  spirit,  and  continuing  the 
work  of  despotism  on  a  lower  and  baser  level  than  here- 
tofore. May  we  not  have  overthrown  noble  tyrants 
devoted  to  their  country's  good,  to  create  the  tyrannj^ 
of  selfish  interests  ?  Shall  power  lurk  in  secret  places, 
instead  of  radiating  from  its  natural  source?  This  is 
worth  thinking  about.  The  spirit  of  local  sectionalism, 
such  as  we  have  now  depicted  it,  will  soon  be  seen  to 
invade  the  Chamber. 

Montcornet's  friend,  the  late  prefect,  Comte  de  la 
Roche-Hugon,  had  lost  his  position  just  before  the  last 
arrival  of  the  general  at  Les  Aigues.  This  dismissal 
drove  him  into  the  ranks  of  the  Liberal  opposition, 
where  he  became  one  of  the  chorus  of  the  Left,  a  posi- 
tion he  soon  after  abandoned  for  an  embassy.  His 
successor,  luckily  for  Montcornet,  was  a  son-in-law  of 
the  Marquis  de  Troisville,  uncle  of  the  countess,  the 
Comte  de  ^Casteran.  He  welcomed  Montcornet  as  a 
relation  and  begged  him  to  continue  his  intimac}'  at  the 
Prefecture.  After  listening  to  the  general's  com[)laints 
the  Comte  de  Casteran  invited  the  bishop,  the  attornej- 
general,  the  colonel  of  the  gendarmerie,  counsellor 
Sarcus,  and  the  general  commanding  the  division  to 
meet  him  the  next  day  at  breakfast. 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  196 

The  attornej'-general,  Baron  Bourlac  (so  famous  in 
the  Chanterie  and  Rifael  suits),  was  one  of  those  men 
well-known  to  all  governments,  who  attach  themselves 
to  power,  no  matter  in  whose  hands  it  is,  and  who  make 
themselves  invaluable  by  such  devotion.  Having  owed 
his  elevation  in  the  first  place  to  his  fanaticism  for  the 
Emperor,  he  now  owed  the  retention  of  his  official  rank 
to  his  inflexible  character  and  the  conscientiousness 
with  which  he  fulfilled  his  duties.  He  who  once  im- 
placablj"  prosecuted  the  remnant  of  the  Chouans  now 
prosecuted  the  Bonapartists  as  implacably.  But  years 
and  turmoils  had  somewhat  subdued  his  energy  and  he 
had  now  become,  like  other  old  devils  incarnate,  per- 
fectly charming  in  manner  and  wa3'S. 

The  geiieral  explained  his  position  and  the  fears  of 
his  bailiff,  and  spoke  of  the  necessit}'  of  making  an  ex- 
ample and  enforcing  the  rights  of  property. 

The  high  functionaries  listened  gravely,  making,  how- 
ever, no  reply  beyond  mere  platitudes,  such  as,  '^  Un- 
doubtedly, the  laws  must  be  upheld  ;  "  ''  Your  cause  is 
that  of  all  land-owners;"  "We  will  consider  it;  but, 
situated  as  we  are,  prudence  is  very  necessarj^ ;  "  "A 
monarch}'  could  certainly  do  more  for  the  people  than 
the  people  would  do  for  itself,  even  if  it  were,  as  in 
1793,  the  sovereign  people  ;  "  "  The  masses  suffer,  and 
we  are  bound  to  do  as  much  for  them  as  for  ourselves." 

The  relentless  attorney-general  expressed  such  kindly 
and  benevolent  views  respecting  the  condition  of  the 
lower  classes  that  our  future  Utopians,  had  they  heard 
him,  might  have  thought  that  the  higher  grade  of  gov- 
ernment officials  were  already  aware  of  the  difficulties 
of  that  problem  which  modern  societj*  will  be  forced  to 
solve. 


196  Sons  of  the  Soil 

It  may  be  well  to  say  here  that  at  this  period  of  the 
Restoration,  various  bloody  encounters  had  taken  place 
in  remote  parts  of  the  kingdom,  caused  b}'  this  very 
question  of  the  pillage  of  woods,  and  the  marauding 
rights  which  the  peasants  were  everywhere  arrogating 
to  themselves.  Neither  the  government  nor  the  court 
liked  these  outbreaks,  nor  the  shedding  of  blood  which 
resulted  from  repression.  Though  the}'  felt  the  neces- 
sity of  rigorous  measures,  the}'  nevertheless  treated  as 
blunderers  the  officials  who  were  compelled  to  employ 
them,  and  dismissed  them  on  the  first  pretence.  The 
prefects  were  therefore  anxious  to  shuffle  out  of  such 
difficulties  whenever  possible. 

At  the  very  beginning  of  the  conversation  Sarcus 
(the  rich)  had  made  a  sign  to  the  prefect  and  the 
attorney-general  which  Montcornet  did  not  see,  but 
which  set  the  tone  of  the  discussion.  The  attorney- 
general  was  well  aware  of  the  state  of  mind  of  the 
inhabitants  of  the  valley  des  Aigues  through  his  sub- 
ordinate, Soudry  the  young  attorney. 

"  I  foresee  a  terrible  struggle,"  the  latter  had  said  to 
him.  "They  mean  to  kill  the  gendarmes;  my  spies 
tell  me  so.  It  will  be  very  hard  to  convict  them  for  it. 
The  instant  the  jury  feel  they  are  incurring  the  hatred 
of  the  friends  of  the  twenty  or  thirty  prisoners,  they 
will  not  sustain  us,  —  we  could  not  get  them  to  convict 
for  death,  nor  even  for  the  galleys.  Possibly  by  prose- 
cuting in  person  you  might  get  a  few  years'  imprison- 
ment for  the  actual  murderers.  Better  shut  our  eyes 
than  open  them,  if  by  opening  them  we  bring  on  a  colli- 
sion which  costs  bloodshed  and  several  thousand  francs 
to  the  State,  —  not  to  speak  of  the  cost  of  keeping 
the  guilty  in  prison.     It  is  loo  high  a  price  to  pay  for  a 


Sons  of  the  Soil  197 

victory  whicli  will  onl}'  reveal  our  judicial  weakness  to 
the  eyes  of  all." 

Montcornet,  who  was  wholly  without  suspicion  of  the 
strength  and  influence  of  the  Mediocracy  in  his  happy 
valley,  did  not  even  mention  Gaubertin,  whose  hand 
kept  these  embers  of  opposition  always  alive,  though 
smouldering.  After  breakfast  the  attorney-general  took 
Montcornet  by  the  arm  and  led  him  to  the  Prefect's 
study.  When  the  general  left  that  room  after  their 
conference,  he  wrote  to  his  wife  that  he  was  starting 
for  Paris  and  should  be  absent  a  week.  We  shall  see, 
after  the  execution  of  certain  measures  suggested  by 
Baron  Bourlac,  the  attorney-general,  whether  the  secret 
advice  he  gave  Montcornet  was  wise,  and  whether  in 
conforming  to  it  the  count  and  Les  Aigues  were  enabled 
to  escape  the  "  Evil  grudge." 

Some  minds,  eager  after  mere  amusement,  will  com- 
plain that  these  various  explanations  are  far  too  long ; 
but  we  once  more  call  attention  to  the  fact  that  the 
historian  of  the  manners,  customs,  and  morals  of  his 
time  must  obey  a  law  far  more  stringent  than  that  im- 
posed on  the  historian  of  mere  facts.  He  must  show 
the  probability  of  everything,  even  the  truth ;  whereas, 
in  the  domain  of  history,  properl3'  so  called,  the  impos- 
sible must  be  accepted  for  the  sole  reason  that  it  did 
happen.  The  vicissitudes  of  social  or  private  life  are 
brought  about  b}'  a  crowd  of  little  causes  derived  from 
a  thousand  conditions.  The  man  of  science  is  forced 
to  clear  away  the  avalanche  under  which  whole  villages 
lie  buried,  to  show  you  the  pebbles  brought  down  from 
the  summit  which  alone  can  determine  the  formation  of 
the  mountain.  If  the  historian  of  human  life  were  sim- 
ply teUing  3'ou  of  a  suicide,  five  hundred  of  which  occur 


19&  "tSons  of  the  Soil 

yearly  in  Paris,  the  melodrama  is  so  commonplace  that 
brief  reasons  and  explanations  are  all  that  need  be 
given ;  but  how  shall  he  make  you  see  that  the  self- 
destruction  of  an  estate  could  happen  in  these  days 
when  property  is  reckoned  of  more  value  than  life? 
J)e  re  vestra  agitur^  said  a  maker  of  fables  ;  this  tale 
concerns  the  affairs  and  interests  of  all  those,  no  matter 
who  they  be,  who  possess  anything. 

Remember  that  this  coalition  of  a  whole  canton  and 
of  a  little  town  against  a  general,  who,  in  spite  of  his 
rash  courage,  had  escaped  the  dangers  of  actual  war, 
is  going  on  in  other  districts  against  other  men  who 
seek  onl}'  to  do  what  is  right  by  those  districts.  It  is  a 
coalition  which  to-day  threatens  everj^  man,  the  man  of 
genius,  the  statesman,  the  modern  agriculturalist,  —  in 
short,  all  innovators.  | 

This  last  explanation  not  only  gives  a  true  presenta- 
tion of  the  personages  of  this  drama,  and  a  serious 
meaning  even  to  its  petty  details,  but  it  also  throws  a 
vivid  light  upon  the  scene  where  so  many  social  inter- 
ests are  now  marshalUng. 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  199 


X. 

THE   SADNESS  OF  A  HAPPY  WOMAN. 

At  the  moment  when  the  general  was  getting  into 
his  caleche  to  go  to  the  Prefecture,  the  countess  and 
the  two  gentlemen  reached  the  gate  of  the  Avonne, 
where,  for  the  last  eighteen  months,  Michaud  and  his 
wife  013'mpe  had  made  their  home. 

Whoso  remembered  the  paviHon  in  the  state  in  which 
we  lately  described  it  would  have  supposed  it  had  been 
rebuilt.  The  bricks  fallen  or  broken  by  time,  and  the 
cement  lacking  to  their  edges,  were  replaced  ;  the  slate 
roof  iiad  been  cleaned,  and  the  effect  of  the  white  balus- 
trade against  its  bluisli  background  restored  the  gay 
character  of  the  architecture.  The  approaches  to  the 
building,  formerly  choked  up  and  sandy,  were  now 
cared  for  by  the  man  whose  duty  it  was  to  keep  the 
park  roadway's  in  order.  The  poultrj'-yard,  stables,  and 
cow-shed,  relegated  to  the  buildings  near  the  pheasantry 
and  hidden  by  clumps  of  trees,  instead  of  afflicting  the 
eye  with  their  foul  details,  now  blended  those  soft  mur- 
murs and  cooings  and  the  sound  of  flapping  wings, 
which  are  among  the  most  delightful  accompaniments  of 
Nature's  eternal  harmou}-,  with  the  peculiar  rustling 
sounds  of  the  forest.  The  whole  scene  possessed  the 
double  charm  of  a  natural,  untouched  forest  and  the 
elegance  of  an  English  park.  The  surroundings  of 
the  pavilion,  in  keeping  with  its  own  exterior,  presented 
a  certain  noble,  dignified,  and  cordial  effect ;  while  the 


200  Sons  of  the  Soil 

hand  of  a  young  and  happ}'  woman  gave  to  its  rnterior 
a  ver}'  ditferent  look  from  what  it  wore  under  the  coarse 
neglect  of  Courtecuisse. 

Just  now  the  rich  season  of  the  j-ear  was  putting 
forth  its  natural  splendors.  The  perfume  of  the  flower- 
beds blended  with  the  wild  odor  of  the  woods  ;  and  the 
meadows  near  by,  where  the  grass  had  been  latelj'  cut, 
sent  up  the  fragrance  of  new-mown  hay. 

When  the  countess  and  her  guests  reached  the  end 
of  one  of  the  winding  paths  which  led  to  the  pavilion, 
they  saw  Madame  Michaud,  sitting  in  the  open  air 
before  the  door,  employed  in  making  a  baby's  garment. 
The  3'oung  woman  thus  placed,  thus  employed,  added 
the  human  charm  that  was  needed  to  complete  the  scene, 
—  a  charm  so  touching  in  its  actuality  that  painters  have 
committed  the  error  of  endeavoring  to  convey  it  in  their 
pictures.  Such  artists  forget  that  the  soul  of  a  land- 
scape, if  they  represent  it  truly,  is  so  grand  that  the 
human  element  is  crushed  by  it ;  whereas  such  a  scene 
added  to  Nature  limits  her  to  the  proportions  of  the 
personality,  like  a  frame  to  which  the  mind  of  the  specta- 
tor confines  it.  When  Poussin,  the  Raffaelle  of  France, 
made  a  landscape  accessory  to  his  Shepherds  of  Arcadia 
he  perceived  plainly  enough  that  man  becomes  diminu- 
tive and  abject  when  Nature  is  made  the  principal 
feature  on  a  canvas.  In  that  picture  August  is  in  its 
glory,  the  harvest  is  read}',  all  simple  and  strong  human 
interests  are  represented.  There  we  find  realized  in 
nature  the  dream  of  manj'  men  whose  uncertain  life  of 
mingled  good  and  evil  harshly  mixed  makes  them  long 
for  peace  and  rest. 

Let  us  now  relate,  in  few  words,  the  romance  of  this 
home.     Justin  Michaud  did  not  reply  very  cordially  to 


I 


Sons  of  the  Soil  201 

the  advances  made  to  him  by  the*  illustrious  colonel  of 
cuirassiers  when  first  offered  the  situation  of  bailiff  at 
Les  Aigues.  He  was  then  thinking  of  re-entering  the 
service.  But  while  the  negotiations,  which  naturally 
took  him  to  the  Hotel  Montcornet,  were  going  on,  he 
inet  the  countess's  head  waiting-maid.  This  young  girl, 
who  was  entrusted  to  Madame  de  Montoornet  by  her 
parents,  worth}-  farmers  in  the  neighborhood  of  Alen9on, 
had  hopes  of  a  little  fortune,  some  twenty  or  thirty 
thousand  francs,  when  the  heirs  were  all  of  age.  Like 
other  farmers  who  marry  young,  and  whose  own  par- 
ents are  still  living,  the  father  and  mother  of  the  girl, 
being  pinched  for  immediate  means,  placed  her  with 
the  young  countess.  Madame  de  Montcornet  had  her 
taught  to  sew  and  to  make  dresses,  arranged  that  she 
should  take  her  meals  alone,  and  was  rewarded  for  the 
care  she  bestowed  on  Olympe  Charel  by  one  of  those 
unconditional  attachments  which  are  so  precious  to 
Parisians. 

Olympe  Charel,  a  pretty  Norman  girl,  rather  stout, 
with  fair  hair  of  a  golden  tint,  an  animated  face  lighted 
by  intelligent  eyes,  and  distinguished  by  a  finely  curved 
thoroughbred  nose,  with  a  maidenly  air  in  spite  of  a 
certain  swaying  Spanish  manner  of  carrying  herself, 
possessed  all  the  points  that  a  young  girl  born  just 
above  the  level  of  the  masses  is  likely  to  acquire  from 
whatever  close  companionship  a  mistress  is  willing  to 
allow  her.  Always  suitably  dressed,  with  modest  bear- 
ing and  manner,  and  able  to  express  herself  well, 
Michaud  was  soon  in  love  with  her,  —  all  the  more  when 
he  found  that  his  sweetheart's  dowry  would  one  day  be 
considerable.  The  obstacles  came  from  the  countess, 
who  could  not  bear  to  part  with  so  invaluable  a  maid ; 


202      '  Sons  of  the  Soil 

but  when  Montcornet  explained  to  her  the  affairs  at 
Les  Aigues,  she  gave  way,  and  the  marriage  was  no 
longer  delayed,  except  to  obtain  the  consent  of  the 
parents,  which,  of  course,  was  quickly  given. 

Michaud,  like  his  general,  looked  upon  his  wife  as  a 
superior  being,  to  whom  he  owed  militar}'  obedience 
without  a  single  reservation.  He  found  in  the  peace 
of  his  home  and  his  busy  life  out-of-doors  the  elements 
of  a  happiness  soldiers  long  for  when  they  give  up  their 
profession,  —  enough  work  to  keep  his  body  healthy, 
enough  fatigue  to  let  him  know  the  charms  of  rest. 
In  spite  of  his  well-known  intrepidity,  Michaud  had 
never  been  seriously  wounded,  and  he  had  none  of 
those  physical  pains  which  often  sour  the  temper  of 
veterans.  Like  all  realh^  strong  men,  his  temper  was 
even ;  his  wife,  therefore,  loved  him  utterlj-.  From 
the  time  they  took  up  their  abode  in  the  pavilion,  this 
happ}'  home  was  the  scene  of  a  long  honey-moon  in 
harmony  with  Nature  and  with  the  art  whose  creations 
surrounded  them,  —  a  circumstance  rare  indeed  !  The 
things  about  us  are  seldom  in  keeping  with  the  con- 
dition of  our  souls ! 

The  picture  was  so  pretty  that  the  countess  stopped 
short  and  pointed  it  out  to  Blondet  and  the  abbe  ;  for 
they  could  see  Madame  Michaud  from  where  they  stood, 
without  her  seeing  them. 

"  I  always  come  this  way  when  I  walk  in  the  park," 
said  the  countess,  softlj'.  *'  I  delight  in  looking  at  the 
paviUon  and  its  two  turtle-doves,  as  much  as  I  delight 
in  a  fine  view." 

She  leaned  significantly  on  Blondet's  arm,  as  if  to 
make  him  share  sentiments  too  delicate  for  words  but, 
which  all  women  feel. 


Sons  of  the  Soil  203 

"  T  wish  I  were  a  gate-keeper  at  Les  Aigues,"  said 
Blondet,  smiling.  ''WlnM  what  troubles  you?"  he 
added,  noticing  an  expression  of  sadness  on  the 
countess's  face. 

*'  Nothing,"  she  replied. 

Women  are  always  hiding  some  important  thought 
when  they  say,  hypocritically,  "  It  is  nothing." 

*' A  woman  may  be  the  victim  of  ideas  which  would 
seem  ver}^  flimsy  to  you,"  she  added,  "but  which,  to 
us,  are  terrible.     As  for  me,  I  env}-  Olympe's  lot." 

*'  God  hears  5'ou,"  said  the  abbe,  smiling  as  though 
to  soften  the  sternness  of  his  remark. 

Madame  de  Montcornet  grew  seriously  lineasy  when 
she  noticed  an  expression  of  fear  and  anxiet}^  in 
Olympe's  face  and  attitude.  By  the  way  a  woman 
draws  out  her  needle  or  sets  her  stitches  another  wo- 
man understands  her  thoughts.  In  fact,  though  wear- 
ing a  rose-colored  dress,  with  her  hair  carefully  braided 
about  her  head,  the  bailiffs  wife  was  thinking  of  mat- 
ters that  were  out  of  keeping  with  her  pretty  dress,  the 
glorious  da}',  and  the  work  her  hands  were  engaged  on. 
Her  beautiful  brow,  and  the  glance  she  turned  some- 
times on  the  ground  at  her  feet,  sometimes  on  the  foli- 
age around,  evidently  seeing  nothing,  betrayed  some 
deep  anxiety,  —  all  the  more  unconsciously  because  she 
supposed  herself  alone. 

"Just  as  I  was  env3ing  her!  What  can  have  sad- 
dened her?  "  whispered  the  countess  to  the  abb^. 

"Madame,"  he   replied  in  the  same  tone,  "tell  me 
wh}'  man  is  often  seized  with  vague  and  unaccountable 
presentiments  of  evil  in  the  very  midst  of  some  perfect/  [ 
happiness?" 

"Abbe!"  said  Blondet,  smiling,  "you  talk  like  a 


"204  >Sons  of  the  Soil 

bishop.  Napoleon  said,  'Nothing  is  stolen,  all  is 
bought ! '  " 

"  Such  a  maxim,  uttered  by  those  imperial  lips,  takes 
the  proportions  of  society  itself,"  replied  the  priest. 

"  Well,  Olympe,  my  dear  girl,  what  is  the  matter  ?  " 
said  the  countess  going  up  to  her  former  maid.  "  You 
seem  sad  and  thoughtful ;  is  it  a  lover's  quarrel  ?  " 

Madame  Michaud's  face,  as  she  rose,  changed  com- 
pletely. 

"  My  dear,"  said  ^rnile  Blondet,  in  a  fatherly  tone, 
"  I  should  like  to  know  what  clouds  that  brow  of  yours, 
in  this  paviHon  where  you  are  almost  as  well  lodged  as 
the  Comte  d'  Artois  at  the  Tuileries.  It  is  like  a  nest  of 
nightingales  in  a  grove  !  And  what  a  husband  we 
have  !  —  the  bravest  fellow  of  the  young  garde,  and  a 
handsome  one,  and  who  loves  us  to  distraction  !  If  I 
had  known  the  advantages  Montcornet  has  given  you 
here  I  should  have  left  my  diatribing  business  and 
made  mj'self  a  bailiff." 

"It  is  not  the  place  for  a  man  of  3^our  talent,  mon- 
sieur," replied  Olympe,  smiling  at  Blondet  as  an  old 
acquaintance.  I 

*'  But  what  troubles  you,  dear?  "  said  the  countess.     I 

*'  Madame,  I  'm  afraid  —  "  A 

"  Afraid  !  of  what  ?  "  said  the  countess,  eagerly  ;  for 
the  word  reminded  her  of  Mouche  and  Fourchon. 

"Afraid  of  the  wolves,  is  that  it?"  said  Smile, 
making  Madame  Michaud  a  sign,  which  she  did  not 
understand. 

"  No,  monsieur,  — afraid  of  the  peasants.  I  was  born 
in  Le  Perche,  where  of  course  there  are  some  bad 
people,  but  I  had  no  idea  how  wicked  people  could  be 
until  I  came  here.     I  try  not  to  meddle  in  Michaud's 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  205 

affairs,  but  I  do  know  that  he  distrusts  the  peasants  so 
much  that  he  goes  armed,  even  in  broad  daylight,  when 
he  enters  the  forest.  He  warns  his  men  to  be  always 
on  the  alert.  Every  now  and  then  things  happen  about 
here  that  bode  no  good.  The  other  day  I  was  walking 
along  the  wall,  near  the  source  of  that  little  sand^ 
rivulet  which  comes  from  the  forest  and  enters  the  park 
through  a  culvert  about  five  hundred  feet  from  here,  — 
you  know  it,  madame  ?  it  is  called  Silver  Spring,  be- 
cause of  the  star-flowers  Bouret  is  said  to  have  sown 
there.  Well,  I  overheard  the  talk  of  two  women  who 
were  washing  their  linen  just  where  the  path  to  Conches 
crosses  the  brook ;  they  did  not  know  I  was  there. 
Our  house  can  be  seen  from  that  point,  and  one  old 
woman  pointed  it  out  to  the  other,  saying :  '  See  what 
a  lot  of  money  they  have  spent  on  the  man  who  turned 
out  Courtecuisse.'  '  Thej^  ought  to  pay  a  man  well 
when  they  set  him  to  harass  poor  people  as  that  man 
does,*  answered  the  other.  '  Well,  it  won't  be  for 
long,'  said  the  first  one ;  '  the  thing  is  going  to  end 
soon.  We  have  a  right  to  our  wood.  The  late  Ma- 
dame allowed  us  to  take  it.  That 's  thirty  years  ago, 
so  the  right  is  ours.'  *  We  '11  see  what  we  shall  see 
next  winter,'  replied  the  second.  '  My  man  has 
sworn  the  great  oath  that  all  the  gendarmerie  in  the 
world  sha'n't  keep  us  from  getting  our  wood ;  he  says 
he  means  to  get  it  himself,  and  if  the  worst  happens  so 
much  the  worse  for  them  ! '  '  Good  God  !  '  cried  the 
otiier ;  'we  can't  die  of  cold,  and  we  mirst  bake  bread 
to  eat !  The3'  want  for  nothing,  those  others  /  the  wife 
of  that  scoundrel  of  a  Michaud  will  be  taken  care  of, 
I  warrant  you!*  And  tlion,  niadame,  they  said  such 
horrible  things  of  me  and  of  you  and  of  Monsieur  le 


206  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

comte  ;  and  they  finall}'  declared  that  the  farms  would 
all  be  burned,  and  then  the  chateau." 

''Bah!"  said  Emile,  ^' idle  talk!  They  have  been 
robbing  the  general,  and  the}'  will  not  be  allowed  to  rob 
him  any  longer.  These  people  are  furious,  that 's  the 
whole  of  it  You  must  remember  that  law  and  the 
government  are  alwa3's  strongest  ever3'where,  even  in 
Burgund}'.  In  case  of  an  outbreak  the  general  could 
bring  a  regiment  of  cavalry  here  if  necessary." 

The  abbe  made  a  sign  to  Madame  Michaud  'from 
behind  the  countess,  telling  her  to  sa}-  no  more  about 
her  fears,  which  were  doubtless  the  effect  of  that  second 
sight  which  true  passion  bestows.  The  soul,  dwelling 
exclusively  on  one  only  being,  grasps  in  the  end  the 
moral  elements  that  surround  it,  and  sees  in  them  the 
makings  of  the  future.  The  woman  who  loves  feels 
the  same  presentiments  that  later  illuminate  her  mother- 
hood. Hence  a  certain  melanchol}^,  a  certain  inexpli- 
cable sadness  which  surprises  men,  who  are  one  and  all 
distracted  from  anj'  such  concentration  of  their  souls 
by  the  cares  of  life  and  the  continual  necessity-  for 
action.  All  true  love  becomes  to  a  woman  an  active 
contemplation,  which  is  more  or  less  lucid,  more  or  less 
profound,  according  to  her  nature.  t:l 

"Come,  my  dear,  show  your  home  to  Monsieur 
Emile,"  said  the  countess,  whose  mind  was  so  pre- 
occupied that  she  forgot  La  Pechina,  who  was  the  osten- 
sible object  of  her  visit. 

The  interior  of  the  restored  pavilion  was  in  keeping 
with  its  exterior.  On  the  ground-floor  the  old  divisions 
had  been  replaced,  and  the  architect,  sent  from  Paris 
with  his  own  workmiMi  (a  cause  of  bitter  complaint  in 
the  neighborhood  against  the  master  of  Les  Aigues), 


Sons  of  the  Soil  207 

had  made  four  rooms  out  of  the  space.  First,  an  ante- 
chamber, at  the  farther  end  of  which  was  a  winding 
wooden  staircase,  beliind .  which  came  the  kitchen ; 
on  either  side  of  the  antechamber  was  a  dining-room 
and  a  parlor  panelled  in  oak  now  nearly  black,  with 
armorial  bearings  in  the  divisions  of  the  ceiling.  The 
architect  chosen  b}^  Madame  de  Montcornet  for  the 
restoration  of  Les  Aigues  had  taken  care  to  put  the 
furniture  of  this  room  in  keeping  with  its  original 
decoration. 

At  the  time  of  which  we  write  fashion  had  not  yet 
given  an  exaggerated  value  to  the  relics  of  past  ages. 
The  carved  settee,  the  high-backed  chairs  covered  with 
tapestry,  the  consoles,  the  clocks,  the  tall  embroidery 
frames,  the  tables,  the  lustres,  hidden  awa\^  in  the 
second-hand  shops  of  Auxerre  and  Ville-aux-Fayes  were 
fifty  per-cent  cheaper  than  the  modern,  ready-made 
furniture  of  the  faubourg  Saint  Antoine.  The  architect 
had  therefore  bought  two  or  three  cartloads  of  well- 
chosen  old  things,  which,  added  to  a  few  others  dis- 
carded at  the  chateau,  made  the  little  salon  of  the 
gate  of  the  Avonne  an  artistic  creation.  As  to  the 
dining-room,  he  painted  it  in  browns  and  hung  it  with 
what  was  called  a  Scotch  paper,  and  Madame  Michaud 
added  white  cambric  curtains  with  green  borders  at  the 
windows,  mahogany  chairs  covered  with  green  cloth, 
two  large  buffets  and  a  table,  also  in  mahogany.  This 
room,  ornamented  with  engravings  of  military  scenes, 
was  heated  by  a  porcelain  stove,  on  each  side  of  which 
were  sporting-guns  suspended  on  the  walls.  These 
adornments,  which  cost  but  little,  were  talked  of 
throughout  the  whole  valley  as  the  Inst  extreme  of  ori- 
ental luxury.    Singular  to  say,  they,  more  than  anything 


208  Sons  of  the  Soil 

else,  excited  the  envy  of  Gaubertin,  and  whenever  he 
thought  of  his  fixed  determination  to  bring  Les  Aigues 
to  the  hammer  and  cut  it  in  pieces,  he  reserved  for  him- 
self, in  petto^  this  beautiful  pavilion. 

On  the  next  floor  three  chambers  suflSced  for  the 
household.  At  the  windows  were  muslin  curtains  which 
reminded  a  Parisian  of  the  particular  taste  and  faucj' 
of  bourgeois  requirements.  Left  to  herself  in  the  deco- 
ration of  these  rooms,  Madame  Michaud  had  chosen 
satin  papers ;  on  the  mantel-shelf  of  her  bedroom  — 
which  was  furnished  in  that  vulgar  style  of  mahogany 
and  Utrecht  velvet  which  is  seen  everj' where,  with  its 
high-backed  bed  and  canop}'  to  which  embroidered 
muslin  curtains  are  fastened  —  stood  an  alabaster  clock 
between  two  candelabra  covered  with  gauze  and  flanked 
by  two  vases  filled  with  artificial  flowers  protected  by 
glass  shades,  a  conjugal  gift  of  the  former  cavalry  ser- 
geant. Above,  under  the  roof,  the  bedrooms  of  the 
cook,  the  man-of  all- work,  and  La  Pechiua  had  bene- 
fited by  the  recent  restoration. 

"  Olympe,  my  dear,  you  did  not  tell  me  all,"  said 
the  countess,  entering  Madame  Michaud's  bedroom,  and 
leaving  Emile  and  the  abbe  on  the  stairway,  whence 
they  descended  when  they  heard  her  shut  the  door. 

Madame  Michaud,  to  whom  the  abbe  had  contrived 
to  whisper  a  word,  was  now  anxious  to  say  no  more 
about  her  fears,  which  were  really  greater  than  she  had 
intimated,  and  she  therefore  began  to  talk  of  a  matter 
which  reminded  the  countess  of  the  object  of  her  visit. 

*'  I  love  Michaud,  madame,  as  3'ou  know.  Well, 
how  would  3^ou  like  to  have,  in  your  own  house,  a  rival 
always  beside  you  ?  " 

"A  rival?" 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  209 

"  Yes,  madame ;  that  swarthy  girl  you  gave  me  to 
take  care  of  loves  Michaud  without  knowing  it,  poor 
tiling !  The  child's  conduct,  long  a  m3'ster\'  to  me, 
has  been  cleared  up  in  m}-  mind  for  some  days." 

"  Wh}',  she  is  only  thirteen  years  old  !  " 

*'  I  know  that,  madame.  But  you  will  admit  that  a 
woman  who  is  three  months  pregnant  and  means  to 
nurse  her  child  herself  ma}'  have  some  fears ;  but  as  I 
did  not  want  to  speak  of  this  before  those  gentlemen,  I 
talked  a  great  deal  of  nonsense  when  you  questioned 
me,"  added  the  generous  creature,  adroitly. 

Madame  Michaud  was  not  realh'  afraid  of  Genevieve 
Niseron,  but  for  the  last  three  days  she  was  in  mortal 
terror  of  some  disaster  from  the  peasantr3\ 

"  How  did  3'ou  discover  this?  "  said  the  countess. 

*'  From  everything  and  from  nothing,"  replied 
Olympe.  "The  poor  little  thing  moves  with  the  slow- 
ness of  a  tortoise  when  she  is  obliged  to  obey  me,  but 
she  runs  like  a  lizard  when  Justin  asks  for  anything,  she 
trembles  like  a  leaf  at  the  sound  of  his  voice  ;  and  her 
face  is  that  of  a  saint  ascending  to  heaven  when  she 
looks  at  him.  But  she  knows  nothing  about  love  ;  she 
has  no  idea  that  she  loves  him." 

"Poor  child!"  said  the  countess  with  a  smile  and 
tone  that  were  full  of  naivete. 

"And  so,"  continued  Madame  Michaud,  answering 
with  a  smile  the  smile  of  her  late  mistress,  "•  Genevieve 
is  gloomy  when  Justin  is  out  of  the  house ;  if  I  ask 
her  what  she  is  thinking  of  she  replies  that  she  is  afraid 
of  Monsieur  Rigou,  or  some  such  nonsense.  She  thinks 
people  env3'  ^^r,  though  she  is  as  black  as  the  inside  of 
a  chimnev\  When  Justin  is  patrolling  the  woods  at 
night  the  child  is  as  anxious  as  I  am.     If  I  open  my 

U 


210  Sons  of  the  Soil 

window  to  listen  for  the  trot  of  his  horse,  I  see  a  light 
in  her  room,  which  shows  me  that  La  Pechina  (as  the}- 
call  her)  is  watching  and  waiting  too.  She  never  goes 
to  bed,  any  more  than  I  do,  till  he  comes  in." 

' '  Thirteen  !  "  exclaimed  the  countess  ;  ' '  unfortunate 
child ! " 

"Unfortunate?  no.     This  passion  will  save  her." 

"  From  what?  "  asked  Madame  de  Montcornet. 

"From  the  fate  which  overtakes  nearly  all  the  girls 
of  her  age  in  these  parts.  Since  I  have  taught  her 
cleanliness  she  is  much  less  ugly  than  she  was ;  in  fact, 
there  is  something  odd  and  wild  about  her  which  at- 
tracts men.  She  is  so  changed  that  you  would  hardly 
recognize  her.  The  son  of  that  infamous  innkeeper  of 
the  Grand-I-Vert,  Nicolas,  the  worst  fellow  in  the 
whole  district,  wants  her ;  he  hunts  her  like  game. 
Though  I  can't  believe  that  Monsieur  Rigou,  who 
changes  his  servant-girls  every  year  or  two  is  persecut- 
ing such  a  little  fright,  it  is  quite  certain  that  Nicolas 
Tonsard  is.  Justin  told  me  so.  It  would  be  a  dread- 
ful fate,  for  the  people  of  this  vallej^  actually  live  like 
beasts ;  but  Justin  and  our  two  servants  and  I  watch 
her  carefulh'.  Therefore  don't  be  uneasy,  madame ; 
she  never  goes  out  alone  except  in  broad  da3'light,  and 
then  only  as  far  as  the  gate  of  Conches.  If  b}'  chance 
she  fell  into  an  ambush,  her  feeling  for  Justin  would 
give  her  strength  and  wit  to  escape ;  for  all  women 
who  have  a  preference  in  their  hearts  can  resist  a 
man  they  hate." 

'*  It  was  about  her  that  I  came,"  said  the  countess, 
*'  and  I  little  thought  m}'  visit  could  be  so  useful  to 
you.  That  child,  you  know,  can't  remain  thirteen ; 
and  she  will  probably'  grow  better-looking." 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  211 

*'0h,  madame,"  replied  Olympe,  smiling,  ''I  am 
quite  sure  of  Justin.  What  a  man  !  what  a  heart !  — 
If  you  onl}-  knew  what  a  depth  of  gratitude  he  feels  for 
his  general,  to  whom,  he  says,  he  owes  his  happiness. 
He  is  only  too  devoted ;  he  would  risk  his  life  for 
him  here,  as  he  would  on  the  field  of  battle,  and  he 
forgets  sometimes  that  he  will  one  day  be  father  of  a 
family." 

''Ah!  I  once  regretted  losing  you,"  said  the  coun- 
tess, with  a  glance  that  made  Olympe  blush;  "•  but  I 
regret  it  no  longer,  for  I  see  you  happy.  What  a  sub- 
lime and  noble  thing  is  married  love !  "  she  added, 
speaking  out  the  thought  she  had  not  dared  express 
before  the  abbe. 

Virginie  de  Troisville  dropped  into  a  revery,  and 
Madame  Michaud  kept  silence. 

'•'  Well,  at  least  the  girl  is  honest,  is  she  not?"  said 
the  countess,  as  if  waking  from  a  dream. 

*'  As  honest  as  I  am  myself,  madame." 

''  Discreet?" 

*' As  the  grave." 

"Grateful?" 

"  Ah !  madame ;  she  has  moments  of  humility  and 
gentleness  towards  me  which  seem  to  show  an  angelic 
nature.  She  will  kiss  my  hands  and  say  the  most  up- 
setting things.  '  Can  we  die  of  love  ? '  she  asked  me 
yesterday.  *  Why  do  you  ask  me  that?'  I  said.  'I 
vant  to  know  if  love  is  a  disease.'" 

''  Did  she  really  say  that?  " 

"  If  I  could  remember  her  exact  words  I  would  tell 
you  a  great  deal  more,"  replied  Olympe ;  ''  she  appears 
to  know  much  more  than  I  do." 

''  Do  you  think,  my  dear,  that  she  could  take  3'our 


212  Sons  of  the  Soil 

place  in  1113'  service.  I  can't  do  without  an  Olympe,'* 
said  the  countess,  smiling  in  a  rather  sad  way. 

"  Not  yet,  madame,  —  she  is  too  3'oung  ;  but  in  two 
years'  time,  yes.  If  it  becomes  necessary  that  she 
should  go  away  from  here  I  will  let  3'ou  know.  She 
ought  to  be  educated,  and  she  knows  nothing  of  the 
world.  Her  grandfather,  Pere  Niseron,  is  a  man  who 
would  let  his  throat  be  cut  sooner  than  tell  a  lie ;  he 
would  die  of  hunger  in  a  baker's  shop ;  he  has  the 
strength  of  his  opinions,  and  the  girl  was  brought  up 
to  all  such  principles.  La  Pechina  would  consider  her- 
self your  equal ;  for  the  old  man  has  made  her,  as  he 
says,  a  repubHcan, — just  as  Pere  Fourchon  has  made 
Mouche  a  boheraian.  As  for  me,  I  laugh  at  such  ideas, 
but  you  might  be  displeased.  She  would  revere  3'ou 
as  her  benefactress,  but  never  as  her  superior.  It 
can't  be  otherwise  ;  she  is  wild  and  free  like  the  swal- 
lows —  her  mother's  blood  counts  for  a  good  deal  in 
what  she  is." 

•' Who  was  her  mother?" 

"Doesn't  madame  know  the  story ? "  said  Olympe. 
"  Well,  the  son  of  the  old  sexton  at  Blangy,  a  splen- 
did fellow,  so  the  people  about  here  tell  me,  was  drafted 
at  the  great  conscription.  In  1809  young  Niseron  was 
still  onlv'  an  artiller3'man,  in  a  corps  d'armee  stationed 
in  Ill3Tia  and  Dalmatia  when  it  received  sudden  orders 
to  advance  through  Hungary  and  cut  off  the  retreat  of 
the  Austrian  arm3'  in  case  the  Emperor  won  the  battle 
of  Wagram.  Michaud  told  me  all  about  Dalmatia,  for 
he  was  there.  Niseron,  being  so  handsome  a  man,  cap- 
tivated a  Montenegrin  girl  of  Zahara  among  the  moun- 
tains, who  was  not  averse  to  the  French  garrison.  This 
lost  her  the  good-will  of  her  compatriots,  and  life  in  her 


Sons  of  the  Soil  213 

own  town  became  impossible  after  the  departure  of  the 
French.  Zena  Kropoli,  called  in  derision  the  French- 
woman, followed  the  artillery,  and  came  to  France 
after  the  peace.  Auguste  Niseron  asked  permission 
to  marry  her ;  but  the  poor  woman  died  at  Vincennes 
in  January,  1810,  after  giving  birth  to  a  daughter,  our 
Genevieve.  The  papers  necessary  to  make  the  mar- 
riage legal  arrived  a  few  days  later.  Auguste  Niseron 
then  wrote  to  his  father  to  come  and  take  the  child, 
with  a  wetnurse  he  had  got  from  its  own  country  ;  and 
it  was  lucky  he  did,  for  he  was  killed  soon  after  by 
the  bursting  of  a  shell  at  Montereau.  Registered  by 
the  name  of  Genevieve  and  baptized  at  Soulanges,  the 
little  Dalmatian  was  taken  under  the  protection  of 
Mademoiselle  Laguerre,  who  was  touched  by  her  storj*. 
It  seems  as  if  it  were  in  the  destiny  of  the  child  to  be 
taken  care  of  by  the  owners  of  Les  Aigues !  Pere 
Niseron  obtained  its  clothes,  and  now  and  then  some 
help  in  money  from  Mademoiselle.'* 

The  countess  and  Olympe  were  just  then  standing 
before  a  window  from  which  they  could  see  Michaud 
approaching  the  abbe  and  Blondet,  who  were  walking 
up  and  down  the  wide,  semi-circular  gravelled  space 
which  repeated  on  the  park  side  of  the  pavilion  the 
exterior  half-moon  ;    they  were  conversing  earnestly. 

"Where  is  she?"  said  the  countess;  ''you  make 
me  anxious  to  see  her." 

*'  She  is  gone  to  carry  milk  to  Mademoiselle  Gaillard 
at  the  gate  of  Conches  ;  she  will  soon  be  back,  for  it  is 
more  than  an  hour  since  she  started." 

*'  Well,  I  '11  go  and  meet  her  with  those  gentlemen," 
said  Madame  de  Montcornet,  going  downstairs. 

Just  as  the  countess  opened   her  parasol,  Michaud 


214  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

came  up  and  told  her  that  the  general  had  left  her  a 
widow  for  probably  two  da3's.  I 

*'  Monsieur  Michaud,"  said  the  countess,  eagerly, 
"don't  deceive  me,  there  is  something  serious  going 
on.  Your  wife  is  frightened,  and  if  there  are  many 
persons  like  Pere  Fourchon,  this  part  of  the  country 
will  be  uninhabitable  —  " 

''  If  it  were  so,  madame,"  answered  Michaud,  laugh- 
ing, "we  should  not  be  in  the  land  of  the  living,  for 
nothing  would  be  easier  than  to  make  away  with  us. 
The  peasants  grumble,  that 's  all.  But  as  to  passing 
from  growls  to  blows,  from  pilfering  to  crime,  they 
care  too  much  for  life  and  the  free  air  of  the  fields. 
Olympe  has  been  saying  something  that  frightened  you, 
but  you  know  she  is  in  state  to  be  frightened  at  noth- 
ing," he  added,  drawing  his  wife's  hand  under  his  arm 
and  pressing  it  to  warn  her  to  sa}"  no  more. 

"  Cornevin  !  Juliette !  "  cried  Madame  Michaud,  who 
soon  saw  the  head  of  her  old  cook  at  the  window. 
"  I  am  going  for  a  little  walk ;  take  care  of  the 
premises." 

Two  enormous  dogs,  who  began  to  bark,  proved  that 
the  effective  of  the  garrison  at  the  gate  of  the  Avonne 
was  not  to  be  despised.  Hearing  the  dogs,  Cornevin, 
an  old  Percheron,  Ol3'mpe's  foster-father,  came  from 
behind  the  trees,  showing  a  head  such  as  no  other  re- 
gion than  Le  Perche  can  manufacture.  Cornevin  was 
undoubtedly  a  Chouan  in  1794  and  1799. 

The  whole  party  accompanied  the  countess  along  that 
one  of  the  six  forest  avenues  which  led  directly  to  the 
gate  of  Conches,  crossing  the  Silver-spring  rivulet. 
Madame  de  Montcornet  walked  in  front  with  Blondet. 
The  abbe  and  Michaud   and  his  wife  talked  in  a  low 


Sons  of  the  SoiL  215 

voice  of  the  revelation  that  had  just  been  made  to  the 
countess  of  the  state  of  the  countr}'. 

*'  Perhaps  it  is  providential,"  said  the  abb^  ;  *'  for  if 
madarae  is  willing,  we  might,  perhaps,  by  dint  of  bene- 
fits and  constant  consideration  of  their  wants,  change 
the  hearts  of  these  people." 

At  about  six  hundred  feet  from  the  pavilion  and  be- 
low the  brook,  the  countess  caught  sight  of  a  broken 
red  jug  and  some  spilt  milk. 

''  Something  has  happened  to  the  poor  child  !  "  she 
cried,  calling  to  Michaud  and  his  wife,  who  were  return- 
ing to  the  pavilion. 

"  A  misfortune  like  Perrette's,"  said  Blondet, 
laughing. 

"  No  ;  the  poor  child  has  been  surprised  and  pursued, 
for  the  jug  was  thrown  outside  the  path,"  said  the  abbe, 
examining  the  ground. 

''Yes,  that  is  certainly  La  P^china's  step,"  said  Mi- 
chaud ;  "  the  print  of  the  feet,  which  have  turned,  you 
see,  quickly,  shows  sudden  terror.  The  child  must  have 
darted  in  tlie  direction  of  the  pavilion,  trying  to  get 
baek  there." 

Every  one  followed  the  traces  which  the  bailiff  pointed 
out  as  he  walked  along  examining  them.  Present!}-  he 
stopped  in  the  middle  of  the  path  about  a  hundred  feet 
from  the  broken  jug,  where  the  girl's  foot-prints  ceased. 

''  Here,"  he  said,  "  she  turned  towards  the  Avonne  ; 
perhaps  she  was  headed  off  from  the  direction  of  the 
paviHon. 

''  But  she  has  been  gone  more  than  an  hour,"  cried 
Madame  Michaud. 

Alarm  was  in  all  faces.  The  abbe  ran  towards 
the  pavilion,  examining  the  state  of  the  road,  while 


216  Sons  of  the  Soil 

Michaud,  impelled  b}^  the  same  thought,  went  up  the 
path  towards  Conches. 

"  Good  God  !  she  fell  here,"  said  Michaud,  returning 
from  a  place  where  the  footsteps  stopped  near  the 
brook,  to  that  where  they  had  turned  in  the  road,  and 
pointing  to  the  ground,  he  added,  ''  See  !  " 

The  marks  were  plainly  seen  of  a  body  lying  at  full 
length  on  the  sand}^  path. 

"The  footprints  which  have  entered  the  wood  are 
those  of  some  one  who  wore  knitted  soles,"  said  the  abbe. 

"  A  woman,  then,"  said  the  countess. 

"  Down  there,  b}'  the  broken  pitcher,  are  the  foot- 
steps of  a  man,"  added  Michaud. 

"  I  don't  see  traces  of  any  other  foot,"  said  the  abb^, 
who  was  tracking  into  the  wood  the  prints  of  the 
woman's  feet. 

"  She  must  have  been  lifted  and  carried  into  the 
wood,"  cried  Michaud. 

"  That  can't  be,  if  it  is  really  a  woman's  foot,"  said 
Blondet. 

"  It  must  be  some  trick  of  that  wretch,  Nicolas," 
said  Michaud.  * '  He  has  been  watching  La  Pechina 
for  some  time.  Only  this  morning  I  stood  two  hours 
under  the  bridge  of  the  Avonne  to  see  what  he  was 
about.     A  woman  may  have  helped   him." 

''It  is  dreadful !  "  said  the  countess. 

"  They  call  it  amusing  themselves,"  added  the  priest, 
in  a  sad  and  grieved  tone. 

"  Oh  !  La  Pechina  would  never  let  them  keep  her," 
said  the  bailiff;  "  she  is  quite  able  to  swim  across  the 
river.  I  shall  look  along  the  banks.  Go  home,  my 
dear  Olj'mpe  ;  and  3'ou  gentlemen  and  madame,  please 
to  follow  the  avenue  towards  Conches." 


Sons  of  the  Soil  217 

**  What  a  country  !  "  exclaimed  the  countess. 

*' There  are  scoundrels  everywhere,"  replied  Blondet. 

''Is  it  true,  Monsieur  I'abbe,"  asked  Madame  de 
Montcornet,  "that  I  saved  the  poor  child  from  the 
clutches  of  Rigou  ?  " 

"  Every  young  girl  over  fifteen  years  of  age  whom 
you  may  protect  at  the  chateau  is  saved  from  that 
monster,"  answered  the  abbe.  *'  In  trying  to  get  pos- 
session of  La  Pechina  from  her  earliest  years,  the 
apostate  sought  to  satisfj'  both  his  lust  and  his  ven- 
geance. When  I  took  Pere  Niseron  as  sexton  I  told 
him  what  Rigou's  intentions  were.  That  is  one  of  the 
causes  of  the  late  ma^'or's  rancor  against  me  ;  his  ha- 
tred grew  out  of  it.  Pere  Niseron  said  to  him  solemnly 
that  he  would  kill  him  if  any  harm  came  to  Genevieve, 
and  he  made  him  responsible  for  all  attempts  upon  the 
poor  child's  honor.  I  can't  help  thinking  that  this  pur- 
suit of  Nicolas  is  the  result  of  some  infernal  collusion 
with  Rigou,  who  thinks  he  can  do  as  he  likes  with  these 
people." 

"  Does  n*t  he  fear  the  law?  " 

*'  In  the  first  place,  he  is  father-in-law  of  the  prose- 
cuting-attorne}',"  said  the  abbe,  pausing  to  listen.  ''And 
then,"  he  resumed,  "you  have  no  conception  of  the 
utter  indifference  of  the  rural  police  to  what  is  done 
around  them.  So  long  as  the  peasants  do  not  burn  the 
farm-houses  and  buildings,  commit  no  murders,  poison 
no  one,  and  pay  their  taxes,  they  let  them  do  as  they 
like ;  and  as  these  people  are  not  restrained  by  any 
religious  principle,  horrible  things  happen  every  da^'. 
On  the  other  side  of  the  Avonne  helpless  old  men  are 
afraid  to  stay  in  their  own  homes,  for  they  are  allowed 
nothing  to  eat ;  they  wander  out  into  the  fields  as  far  as 


218  Sons  of  the  Soil 

their  tottering  legs  can  bear  them,  knowing  well  that  if 
they  take  to  their  beds  thej-  will  die  for  want  of  food. 
Monsieur  Sarcus,  the  magistrate,  tells  me  that  if  they 
arrested  and  tried  all  criminals,  the  costs  would  ruin 
the  municipality." 

''Then  he  at  least  sees  how  things  are?"  said 
Blondet. 

"  Monseigneur  thoroughly  understands  the  condition 
of  the  valley,  and  especially  the  state  of  this  district," 
continued  the  abbe.  "Religion  alone  can  cure  such 
evils ;  the  law  seems  to  me  powerless,  modified  as  it 
is  now  —  " 

The  words  were  interrupted  by  loud  cries  from  the 
woods,  and  the  countess,  preceded  by  Emile  and  the 
abbe,  sprang  bravely  into  the  brushwood  in  the  direction 
of  the  sounds. 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  219 


I 


XI. 


THE  OARISTYS,  EIGHTEENTH  ECLOGUE  OF  THE- 
OCRITUS; LITTLE  ADMIRED  ON  THE  POLICE 
CALENDAR. 


*  The  sagacity  of  a  savage,  which  Michaud's  new 
occupation  had  developed  among  his  faculties,  joined 
to  an  acquaintance  with  the  passions  and  interests  of 
Blang}',  enabled  him  partially  to  understand  a  third 
idj'l  in  the  Greek  style,  which  poor  villagers  like 
Tonsard,  and  middle-aged  rich  men  like  Rigou,  trans- 
late freely  —  to  use  the  classic  word  —  in  the  depths  of 
their  countr}-  solitudes. 

Nicolas,  Tonsard's  second  son,  had  drawn  an  un- 
luck}^  number  at  a  recent  conscription.  Two  j^ears 
earlier  his  eldest  brother  had  been  pronounced,  through 
the  influence  of  Soudr}^,  Gaubertin,  and  Sarcus  the  rich, 
unfit  for  military  service,  on  account  of  a  pretended 
weakness  in  the  muscles  of  the  right  arm  ;  but  as  Jean- 
Louis  had  since  wielded  instruments  of  husbandry'  with 
remarkable  force  and  skill,  a  good  deal  of  talk  on  the 
subject  had  gone  through  the  district.  Soudrj',  Rigou, 
and  Gaubertin,  who  were  the  special  protectors  of  the 
family,  had  warned  Tonsard  that  he  must  not  expect  to 
save  Nicolas,  who  was  tall  and  vigorous,  from  being 
recruited  if  he  drew  a  fatal  number.  Nevertheless, 
Gaubertin  and  Rigou  were  so  well  aware  of  the  impor- 
tance of  conciliating  bold  men  able  and  willing  to  do 
mischief,  if  properly  directeci  against  Les  Aigues,  that 


220  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

Eigou  held  out  certain  hopes  of  safety  to  Tonsard  and 
his  son.  The  late  monk  was  occasionalh-  visited  by 
Catherine  Tonsard  wiio  was  very  devoted  to  her  brotlier 
Nicolas;  on  one  such  occasion  Rigou  advised  her  to 
appeal  to  the  general  and  the  countess. 

"  The3^  ma}^  be  glad  to  do  you  this  service  to  cajole 
you  ;  in  that  case,  it  is  just  so  much  gained  from  the 
enemy,"  he  said.  ''If  the  Shopman  refuses,  then  we 
shall  see  what  we  shall  see." 

Rigou  foresaw  that  the  general's  refusal  would  pass 
as  one  wrong  the  more  done  b}^  the  land-owner  to  the 
peasantry,  and  would  bind  Tonsard  by  an  additional 
motive  of  gratitude  to  the  coalition,  in  case  the  craft}' 
mind  of  the  innkeeper  could  suggest  to  him  some  plaus- 
ible way  of  liberating  Nicolas. 

Nicolas,  who  was  soon  to  appear  before  the  examin- 
ing board,  had  little  hope  of  the  general's  intervention 
because  of  the  harm  done  to  Les  Aigues  by  all  the 
members  of  the  Tonsard  family.  His  passion,  or  to 
speak  more  correctly,  his  caprice  and  obstinate  pursuit 
of  La  Pechina  were  so  aggravated  b}^  the  prospect 
of  his  immediate  departure,  which  left  him  no  time  to 
seduce  her,  that  he  resolved  on  attempting  violence. 
The  child's  contempt  for  her  prosecutor,  plainly  shown, 
excited  the  Lovelace  of  the  Grand-I-Vert  to  a  hatred 
whose  fury  was  equalled  only  by  his  desires.  For  the 
last  three  days  he  had  been  watching  for  La  Pechina, 
and  the  poor  child  knew  she  was  watched.  Between 
Nicolas  and  his  prej^  the  same  sort  of  understanding 
existed  which  there  is  between  the  hunter  and  the 
game.  When  the  girl  was  at  some  little  distance  from 
the  pavihon  she  saw  Nicolas  in  one  of  the  paths  which 
ran  parallel  to  the  wahs  of  the  park,  leading  to  the 


I 


Sons  of  the  Soil  221 

Idge  of  the  Avonne.     She  could  easily  have  escaped 
man's  pursuit  had  she  appealed  to  her  grandfather ; 

it  all  3'oung  girls,   even   the   most   unsophisticated, 

ive  a  strange  fear,  possibl}^  instinctive,  of  trusting  to 
leir  natural  protectors  under  the  like  circumstances. 

Genevieve  had  heard  Pere  Niseron  take  an  oath  to 
kill  an}^  man,  no  matter  who  he  was,  who  should  dare 
to  touch  (that  was  his  word)  his  granddaughter.  The 
old  man  thought  the  child  amply  protected  by  the  halo  of 
white  hair  and  honor  which  a  spotless  life  of  three-score 
3'ears  and  ten  had  laid  upon  his  brow.  The  vision  of 
bloody  scenes  terrifies  the  imagination  of  young  girls 
so  that  they  need  not  dive  to  the  bottom  of  their  hearts 
for  other  numerous  and  inquisitive  reasons  which  seal 
their  lips.  ^ 

When  La  Pechina  started  with  the  milk  which 
Madame  Michaud  had  sent  to  the  daughter  of  Gaillard, 
the  keeper  of  the  gate  of  Conches,  whose  cow  had  just 
calved,  she  looked  about  her  cautiousl}',  like  a  cat  when 
it  ventures  out  into  the  street.  She  saw  no  signs 
of  Nicolas ;  she  listened  to  the  silence,  as  the  poet 
says,  and  hearing  nothing,  she  concluded  that  the  rascal 
had  gone  to  his  day's  work.  The  peasants  were  just 
beginning  to  cut  the  rye  ;  for  the}^  were  in  the  habit 
of  getting  in  their  own  harvests  first,  so  as  to  benefit 
by  the  best  strength  of  the  mowers.  But  Nicolas  was 
not  a  man  to  mind  losing  a  day's  work,  —  especiall}' 
now  that  he  expected  to  leave  the  country  after  the  fair 
at  Soulanges  and  begin,  as  the  country  people  say,  the 
new  hfe  of  a  soldier. 

When  La  Pechina,  with  the  jug  on  her  head,  was 
about  half-way,  Nicolas  slid  like  a  wild-cat  down  the 
trunk  of  an  elm,  among  the  branches  of  which  he  was 


222  jSons  of  the  Soil. 

hiding,  and  fell  like  a  thunderbolt  in  front  of  the  girl, 
who  flung  away  her  pitcher  and  trusted  to  her  fleet  legs 
to  regain  the  pavilion.  But  a  hundred  feet  farther  on, 
Catherine  Tonsard,  who  was  on  the  watch,  rushed  out 
of  the  wood  and  knocked  so  violently  against  the  flying 
girl  that  she  was  thrown  down.  The  violence  of  the  fall 
made  her  unconscious.  Catherine  picked  her  up  and 
carried  her  into  the  woods  to  the  middle  of  a  tiny 
meadow  where  the  Silver-spring  brook  bubbled  up. 

Catherine  Tonsard  was  tall  and  strong,  and  in  every 
respect  the  t3'pe  of  woman  whom  painters  and  sculptors 
take,  as  the  Republic  did  in  former  days,  for  their 
figures  of  Liberty.  She  charmed  the  young  men  of 
the  valley  of  the  Avonne  with  her  voluminous  bosom, 
her  muscular  legs,  and  a  waist  as  robust  as  it  was  flexi- 
ble ;  with  her  plump  arms,  her  eyes  that  could  flash  and 
sparkle,  and  her  jaunty  air ;  with  the  masses  of  hair 
twisted  in  coils  around  her  head,  her  masculine  fore- 
head and  her  red  lips  curling  with  that  same  ferocious 
smile  which  Eugene  Delacroix  and  David  (of  Angers) 
caught  and  represented  so  admirabl}^  True  image  of 
the  People,  this  fier\'  and  swarth}'  creature  seemed  to 
emit  revolt  through  her  piercing  yellow  eyes,  blazing 
with  the  insolence  of  a  soldier.  She  inherited  from  her 
father  so  violent  a  nature  that  the  whole  famil}',  except 
Tonsard,  and  all  who  frequented  the  tavern  feared  her. 

*'  Well,  how  are  you  now?"  she  said  to  La  P^china 
as  the  latter  recovered  consciousness. 

Catherine  had  placed  her  victim  on  a  little  mound 
beside  the  brook  and  ,was  bringing  her  to  her  senses 
with  dashes  of  cold  water.  '^  Where  am  I?"  said  the 
child,  opening  her  beautiful  black  eyes  through  which  a 
sun-ray  seemed  to  glide. 


Sons  of  the  Soil  223 

*'  Ah  !  "  said  Catherine,  "if  it  had  n't  been  for  me 
you  'd  have  been  killed." 

*'  Thank  you,"  said  the  girl,  still  bewildered  ;  "  what 
happened  to  me?" 

**  You  stumbled  over  a  root  and  fell  flat  in  the  road 
over  there,  as  if  shot.     Ha  !  how  you  did  run  !  " 

'*  It  was  your  brother  who  made  me,"  said  La  Pechl- 
na,  remembering  Nicolas. 

''  My  brother?  I  did  not  see  him,"  said  Catherine. 
*••  What  did  he  do  to  3^ou,  poor  fellow,  that  should  make 
you  fly  as  if  he  were  a  wolf?  Is  n't  he  handsomer  than 
your  Monsieur  Michaud  ?  " 

'*  Oh  !  "  said  the  girl,  contemptuousl}'. 

*'  See  here,  little  one;  you  are  laying  up  a  crop  of 
evils  for  yourself  by  loving  those  who  persecute  us. 
Wh\'  don't  you  keep  to  our  side?  '* 

*'  Why  don't  you  come  to  church ;  and  why  do  you 
steal  things  night  and  day?"  asked  the  child. 

* '  So  you  let  those  people  talk  you  over ! "  sneered 
Catherine.  "They  love  us,  don't  they?  —  just  as  they 
love  their  food  which  the}"  get  out  of  us,  and  they  want 
new  dishes  every  day.  Did  3'ou  ever  know  one  of  them 
to  marry  a  peasant-girl?  Not  they!  Does  Sarcus  the 
rich  let  his  son  marry  that  handsome  Gatienne  Gibou- 
lard?  Not  he,  though  she  is  the  daughter  of  a  rich 
upholsterer.  You  have  never  been  at  the  Tivoli  ball 
at  Soulanges  in  Socquard's  tavern ;  3'ou  had  better 
come.  You  'II  see  'em  all  there,  these  bourgeois  fellows, 
and  you  '11  find  they  are  not  worth  the  mone}'  we  shall 
get  out  of  them  when  we  've  pulled  them  down.  Come 
to  the  fair  this  year  !  " 

"  They  say  it 's  fine,  that  Soulanges  fair !  "  cried  La 
Pechiua,  artlessl3\ 


224  Sons  of  the  Soil 

"  I  '11  tell  you  what  it  is  in  two  words,"  said  Cather- 
ine. "  If  3'ou  are  handsome  3'ou're  well  ogled.  What 
is  the  good  of  being  as  pretty  as  you  are  if  3"ou  are  not 
admired  by  the  men  ?  Ha  !  when  I  heard  one  of  them 
say  for  the  first  time,  '  What  a  fine  sprig  of  a  girl !  '  all 
my  blood  was  on  fire.  It  was  at  Socquard's,  in  the 
middle  of  a  dance ;  m}'  grandfather,  Fourchon,  who 
was  playing  the  clarionet,  heard  it  and  laughed.  Tivoli 
seemed  to  me  as  grand  and  fine  as  heaven  itself.  It 's 
lighted  up,  my  dear,  with  glass  lamps,  and  you  '11  think 
you  are  in  paradise.  All  the  gentlemen  of  Soulanges 
and  Auxerre  and  Ville-aux-Fayes  will  be  there.  Ever 
since  that  first  night  I  've  loved  the  place  where  those 
words  rang  in  m}'  ears  like  military  music.  It 's  worth 
giving  your  eternity  to  hear  such  words  said  of  you 
by  a  man  you  love." 

''Yes,  perhaps,"  replied  La  Pechina,  thoughtfully. 

"  Then  come,  and  get  the  praise  of  men  ;  you  're  sure 
of  it!"  cried  Catherine.  ''Ha!  you'll  have  a  fine 
chance,  handsome  as  you  are,  to  pick  up  good  luck. 
There  's  the  son  of  Monsieur  Lupin,  Amaury,  he  might 
marr}^  you.  But  that 's  not  all ;  if  you  onh^  knew  what 
comforts  you  can  find  there  against  vexation  and  worrj'. 
Why,  Socquard's  boiled  wine  will  make  you  forget 
every  trouble  you  ever  had.  Fancy !  it  can  make  you 
dream,  and  feel  as  light  as  a  bird.  Did  n't  you  ever 
drink  boiled  wine  ?     Then  3'ou  don't  know  what  life  is." 

The  privilege  enjoyed  by  older  persons  to  wet  their 
throats  with  boiled  wine  excites  the  curiosity  of  the 
children  of  the  peasantry  over  twelve  years  of  age  to 
such  a  degree  that  Genevieve  had  once  put  her  lips  to 
a  glass  of  boiled  wine  ordered  by  the  doctor  for  her 
grandfather  when  ill.     The  taste  had  left  a  sort  of  magic 


I 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  225 

influence  in  the  memory  of  the  poor  child,  which  may 
explain  the  interest  with  which  she  listened,  and  on 
which  the  evil-minded  Catherine  counted  to  carrj'  out  a 
plan  alread}'  half-successful.  No  doubt  she  was  trying 
to  bring  her  victim,  gidd}^  from  the  fall,  to  the  moral 
intoxication  so  dangerous  to  young  women  living  in  the 
wilds  of  nature,  whose  imagination,  deprived  of  other 
nourishment,  is  all  the  more  ardent  when  the  occasion 
comes  to  exercise  it.  Boiled  wine,  which  Catherine  had 
held  in  reserve,  was  to  end  the  matter  b}^  intoxicating 
the  victim. 

''  What  do  they  put  into  it?  "  asked  La  Pechina. 

**  All  sorts  of  things,"  replied  Catherine,  glancing 
back  to  see  if  her  brother  were  coming;  *'in  the  first 
place,  those  what  d'  ye  call  'ems  that  come  from  India, 
cinnamon,  and  herbs  that  change  you  b}^  magic, — you 
fancy  you  have  everj'thing  you  wish  for ;  boiled  wine 
makes  you  happy !  you  can  snap  3'our  fingers  at  all 
your  troubles  !  " 

''  I  should  be  afraid  to  drink  boiled  wine  at  a  dance," 
said  La  Pechina, 

"  Afraid  of  what?  "  asked  Catherine.  **  There  's  not 
the  slightest  danger.  Think  what  lots  of  people  there 
will  be.  All  the  bourgeois  will  be  looking  at  us  !  Ah  ! 
it  is  one  of  those  days  that  make  up  for  all  our  miser}'. 
See  it  and  die,  —  for  it 's  enough  to  satisfy  any  one." 

"  If  Monsieur  and  Madame  Michaud  would  onlj^  take 
me  !  "  cried  La  Pechina,  her  eyes  blazing. 

"  Ask  3our  grandfather  Niseron  ;  you  have  not  given 
him  up,  poor  dear  man,  and  he  'd  be  pleased  to  see  you 
admired  like  a  little  queen.  Why  do  you  like  those 
Arminacs  the  Michauds  better  than  your  grandfather 
and  the  Burgundians.     It 's  bad  to  neglect  your  own 


226  Sons  of  the  Soil.  1 

people.  Besides,  why  should  the  Michauds  object  if 
your  grandfather  takes  you  to  the  fair  ?  Oh !  if  you 
knew  what  it  is  to  reign  over  a  man  and  put  him  beside 
himself,  and  say  to  him,  as  I  say  to  Godain,  "Go 
there!"  and  he  goes,  "Do  that!"  and  he  does  it! 
You  've  got  it  in  you,  little  one,  to  turn  the  head  of  a 
bourgeois  like  that  son  of  Monsieur  Lupin.  Monsieur 
Amaurj^  took  a  fancy  to  my  sister  Marie  because  she 
is  fair  and  because  he  is  half-afraid  of  me ;  but  he  'd 
adore  you,  for  ever  since  those  people  at  the  pavilion 
have  spruced  you  up  a  bit  you've  got  the  airs  of  an 
empress." 

Adroitly  leading  the  innocent  heart  to  forget  Ni'colas 
and  so  put  it  off'  its  guard,  Catherine  distilled  into  the 
girl  the  insidious  nectar  of  compliments.  Unawares, 
she  touched  a  secret  wound.  La  Pechina,  without  be- 
ing other  than  a  poor  peasant  girl,  was  a  specimen  of 
alarming  precocit}^,  like  many  another  creature  doomed 
to  die  as  prematurel}^  as  it  blooms.  Strange  pro- 
duct of  Burgundian  and  Montenegrin  blood,  conceived 
and  borne  amid  the  toils  of  war,  the  girl  was  doubt- 
less in  many  ways  the  result  of  her  congenital  circum- 
stances. Thin,  slender,  brown  as  a  tobacco  leaf,  and 
short  in  stature,  she  nevertheless  possessed  extraordi- 
nary strength,  —  a  strength  unseen  by  the  eyes  of  peas- 
ants, to  whom  the  mysteries  of  the  nervous  system  are 
unknown.  Nerves  are  not  admitted  into  the  medical 
rural  mind. 

At  thirteen  years  of  age  Genevieve  had  completed 
her  growth,  though  she  was  hardl}^  as  tall  as  an  ordi- 
nary girl  of  her  age.  Did  her  face  owe  its  topaz  skin, 
so  dark  and  yet  so  brilliant,  dark  in  tone  and  brilliant 
in  the  qualitj-  of  its  tissue,  giving  a  look  of  age  to  the 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  227 

childish  face,  to  her  Montenegrin  origin,  or  to  the  ar- 
dent sun  of  Burgundy?  Medical  science  may  dismiss 
the  inquir3\  The  premature  old  age  on  the  surface  of 
the  face  was  counterbalanced  by  the  glow,  the  fire,  the 
wealth  of  light  which  made  the  eyes  two  stars.  Like 
all  eyes  which  fill  with  sunlight  and  need,  perhaps,  some 
sheltering  screen,  the  eyelids  were  fringed  with  lashes 
of  extraordinary  length.  The  hair,  of  a  bluish  black, 
long  and  fine  and  abundant,  crowned  a  brow  moulded 
like  that  of  the  Farnese  Juno.  That  magnificent  dia- 
dem of  hair,  those  grand  Armenian  eyes,  that  celestial 
brow  eclipsed  the  rest  of  the  face.  The  nose,  though 
pure  in  form  as  it  left  the  brow,  and  graceful  in  curve, 
ended  in  flattened  and  flaring  nostrils.  Anger  increased 
this  effect  at  times,  and  then  the  face  wore  an  abso- 
lutely furious  expression.  All  the  lower  part  of  the 
face,  like  the  lower  part  of  the  nose,  seemed  unfinished, 
as  if  the  clay  in  the  hands  of  the  divine  sculptor  had 
proved  insufficient.  Between  the  lower  lip  and  the 
chin  the  space  was  so  short  that  any  one  taking  La 
Pechina  by  the  chin  would  have  rubbed  the  lip;  but 
the  teeth  prevented  all  notice  of  this  defect.  One  might 
almost  believe  those  little  bones  had  souls,  so  brilliant 
were  the3%  so  polished,  so  transparent,  so  exquisitely 
shaped,  disclosed  as  they  were  by  too  wide  a  mouth, 
curved  in  lines  that  bore  resemblance  to  the  fantastic 
shapes  of  coral.  The  shells  of  the  ears  were  so  trans- 
parent to  the  light  that  in  the  sunshine  they  were  rose- 
colored.  The  complexion,  though  sun-burned,  showed 
a  marvellous  delicacy  in  the  texture  of  the  skin.  If, 
as  BufTon  declared,  love  lies  in  touch,  the  softness  of 
the  girl's  skin  must  have  had  the  penetrating  and  incit- 
ing influence  of  the  fragrance  of  daturas.     The  chest 


228  Sons  of  the  Soil 

and  indeed  the  whole  body  was  alarmingly  thin  ;  but 
the  feet  and  hands,  of  alluring  delicacy,  showed  re- 
markable nervous  power,  and  a  vigorous  organism. 

This  mixture  of  diabolical  imperfections  and  divine 
beauties,  harmonious  in  spite  of  discords,  for  they 
blended  in  a  species  of  savage  dignit}^  also  this  tri- 
umph of  a  powerful  soul  over  a  feeble  bod3',  as  written 
in  those  eyes,  made  the  child,  when  once  seen,  unfor- 
gettable. Nature  had  wished  to  make  that  frail  young 
being  a  woman  ;  the  circumstances  of  her  conception 
moulded  her  with  the  face  and  body  of  a  boy.  A  poet 
observing  the  strange  creature  would  have  declared 
her  native  clime  to  be  Arabia  the  Blest ;  she  belonged 
to  the  Afrite  and  Genii  of  Arabian  tales.  Her  face  told 
no  lies.  She  had  the  soul  of  that  glance  of  fire,  the 
intellect  of  those  lips  made  briUiant  by  the  bewitching 
teeth,  the  thought  enshrined  within  that  glorious  brow, 
the  passion  of  those  nostrils  ready  at  all  moments  to 
snort  flame.  Therefore  love,  such  as  we  imagine  it  on 
burning  sands,  in  lone!}'  deserts,  filled  that  heart  of 
twent}^  in  the  breast  of  a  child,  doomed,  like  the  snowy 
heights  of  Montenegro,  to  wear  no  flowers  of  the  spring. 

Observers  ought  now  to  understand  how  it  was  that 
La  Pechina,  from  whom  passion  issued  b}'  everj-  pore, 
awakened  in  perverted  natures  the  feelings  deadened  by 
abuse ;  just  as  water  fills  the  mouth  at  sight  of  those 
twisted,  blotched,  and  speckled  fruits  which  gourmands 
know  by  experience,  and  beneath  whose  skin  nature  has 
put  the  rarest  flavors  and  perfumes.  Wh}'  did  Nicolas, 
that  vulgar  laborer,  pursue  this  being  who  was  worthy 
of  a  poet,  while  the  eyes  of  the  country-folk  pitied  her 
as  a  sickly  deformity?  Why  did  Rigou,  the  old  man, 
feel  the  passion  of  a  young  one  for  this  girl?     Which 


Sons  of  the  Soil  229 

of  the  two  men  was  young,  and  which  was  old  ?  Was 
the  3'oung  peasant  as  blase  as  the  old  usurer?  Wh}' 
did  these  two  extremes  of  life  meet  in  one  common 
and  devilish  caprice?  Does  the  vigor  that  draws  to 
its  close  resemble  the  vigor  that  is  only  dawning?  The 
moral  perversities  of  men  are  gulfs  guarded  by  sphinxes  ; 
they  begin  and  end  in  questions  to  which  there  is  no 
answer. 

The  exclamation,  formerly  quoted,  of  the  countess, 
*'  Piccina !  "  when  she  first  saw  Genevieve  by  the  road- 
side, open-mouthed  at  sight  of  the  carriage  and  the 
elegantly  dressed  woman  within  it,  will  be  understood. 
This  girl,  almost  a  dwarf,  of  Montenegrin  vigor,  loved 
the  handsome,  noble  bailiff,  as  children  of  her  age  love, 
when  they  do  love,  that  is  to  say,  with  childlike  passion, 
with  the  strength  of  youth,  with  the  devotion  which  in 
truly  virgin  souls  gives  birth  to  divinest  poesy.  Cather- 
ine had  just  swept  her  coarse  hands  across  the  sensitive 
strings  of  that  choice  harp,  strung  to  the  breaking-point. 
To  dance  before  Michaud,  to  shine  at  the  Soulanges 
ball  and  inscribe  herself  on  the  memor}'  of  that  adored 
master  !  What  glorious  thoughts  !  To  fling  them  into 
that  volcanic  head  was  like  casting  live  coal  upon  straw 
dried  in  the  August  sun. 

'*  No,  Catherine,"  replied  La  Pechina,  *'  I  am  ugly 
and  pun}^ ;  my  lot  is  to  sit  in  a  corner  and  never  to  be 
married,  but  live  alone  in  the  world." 

"Men  like  weaklings,"  said  Catherine.  *'You  see 
me,  don't  you?"  she  added,  showing  her  handsome, 
strong  arms.  "  I  please  Godain,  who  is  a  poor  stick; 
I  please  that  little  Charles,  the  count's  groom  ;  but 
Lupin's  son  is  afraid  of  me.  I  tell  you  it  is  the  small 
kind  of  men  who  love  me,  and  who  say  when  they  see 


230  Sons  of  the  Soil 

me  go  by  at  Ville-aux-Fayes  and  at  Soulanges,  '  Ha ! 
what  a  fine  girl ! '  Now  you,  that 's  another  thing ; 
you  '11  please  the  fine  men." 

"  Ah  !  Catherine,  if  it  were  true  —  that !  "  cried  the 
bewitched  child. 

"  It  is  true,  it  is  so  true  that  Nicolas,  the  handsomest 
man  in  the  canton,  is  mad  about  you ;  he  dreams  of 
you,  he  is  losing  his  mind ;  and  yet  all  the  other  girls 
are  in  love  with  him.  He  is  a  fine  lad  !  If  you  '11  put 
on  a  white  dress  and  j^ellow  ribbons,  and  come  to 
Socquard's  for  the  midsummer  ball,  you  '11  be  the 
handsomest  girl  there,  and  all  the  fine  people  from 
Ville-aux-Fayes  will  see  you.  Come,  won't  you?  — 
See  here,  I  've  been  cutting  grass  for  the  cows,  and  I 
brought  some  boiled  wine  in  my  gourd  ;  Socquard  gave 
it  me  this  morning,"  she  added  quickly,  seeing  the  half- 
delirious  expression  in  La  Pechina's  eyes  which  women 
understand  so  well.  ''We'll  share  it  together,  and 
you'll  fancy  the  men  are  in  love  with  you." 

During  this  conversation  Nicolas,  choosing  the  grassy 
spots  to  step  on,  had  noiselessl}^  slipped  behind  the 
trunk  of  an  old  oak  near  which  his  sister  had  seated 
La  Pechina.  Catherine,  who  had  now  and  then  cast 
her  eyes  behind  her,  saw  her  brother  as  she  turned  to 
get  the  boiled  wine. 

''  Here,  take  some,"  she  said,  offering  it. 

*'  It  burns  me !  "  cried  Genevieve,  giving  back  the 
gourd,  after  taking  two  or  three  swallows  from  it. 

*'  Silly  child  !  "  replied  Catherine  ;  "  see  here  !  "  and 
she  emptied  the  rustic  bottle  without  taking  breath. 
"See  how  it  slips  down ;  it  goes  like  a  sunbeam  into 
the  stomach." 

*'  But  I  ought  to  be  carrying  the  milk  to  Mademoi- 


Sons  of  the  Soil  231 

selle  Gaillard,"  cried  Genevieve;  *'  and  it  is  all  spilt ! 
Nicolas  frightened  me  so !  " 

*'  Don't  3'ou  like  Nicolas  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Genevieve.  "  Wh}'  does  he  per- 
secute rae?  He  can  get  plenty  other  girls,  who  are 
willing." 

"  But  if  he  likes  you  better  than  all  the  other  girls  in 
the  valley  — " 

*'  So  much  the  worse  for  him." 

*'  I  see  3'ou  don't  know  him,"  answered  Catherine,  as 
she  seized  the  girl  rapidly  by  the  waist  and  flung  her  on 
the  grass,  holding  her  down  in  that  position  with  her 
strong  arms.  At  this  moment  Nicholas  appeared. 
Seeing  her  odious  persecutor,  the  child  screamed  with 
all  her  might,  and  drove  him  five  feet  awa}'  with  a  vio- 
lent kick  in  the  stomach ;  then  she  twisted  herself  like 
an  acrobat,  with  a  dexterity  for  which  Catherine  was 
not  prepared,  and  rose  to  run  away.  Catherine,  still  on 
the  ground,  caught  her  by  one  foot  and  threw  her  head- 
long on  her  face.  This  frightful  fall  stopped  the  brave 
child's  cries  for  a  moment.  Nicholas  attempted,  furi- 
ously, to  seize  his  victim,  but  she,  though  giddy  from 
the  wine  and  the  fall,  caught  him  by  the  throat  in  a 
grip  of  iron. 

"  Help  !  she's  strangling  me,  Catherine,"  cried  Nico- 
las, in  a  stifled  voice. 

La  Pechina  uttered  piercing  screams,  which  Catherine 
tried  to  Ihoke  by  putting  her  hands  over  the  girl's 
mouth,  but  she  bit  them  and  drew  blood.  It  was  at 
this  moment  that  Blondet,  the  countess,  and  the  abbe 
appeared  at  the  edge  of  the  wood. 

**  Here  are  those  Aigues  people  !  "  exclaimed  Cather- 
ine, helping  Genevieve  to  rise.     . 


232  Sons  of  the  Soil 

"  Do  yon  want  to  live  ?  "  hissed  Nicolas  in  the  child's 
ear. 

"What  then?"  she  asked. 

"  Tell  them  we  were  all  pla3'ing,  and  I  '11  forgive 
you,"  said  Nicolas,  in  a  threatening  voice. 

"  Little  wretch,  mind  j'ou  sa}-  it !  "  repeated  Cather- 
ine, whose  glance  was  more  terrifying  than  her  brother's 
murderous  threat. 

"  Yes,  I  will,  if  you  let  me  alone,'*  replied  the  child. 
*'But  anyhow  I  will  never  go  out  again  without  my 
scissors." 

"  You  are  to  hold  your  tongue,  or  I  '11  drown  3'ou  in 
the  Avonne,"  said  Catherine,  ferociousl}*.  | 

*'You  are  monsters,"  cried  the  abbe,  coming  up; 
*'  3^ou  ought  to  be  arrested  and  taken  to  the  assizes.'* 

' '  Ha !  and  pray  what  do  30U  do  in  your  drawing- 
rooms?'*  said  Nicolas,  looking  full  at  the  countess  and 
Blondet.  "  You  play  and  amuse  3'ourselves,  don't 
you?  Well,  so  do  we,  in  the  fields  which  are  ours. 
We  can't  alwaj's  work  ;  we  must  play  sometimes,  —  ask 
my  sister  and  La  Pechina." 

"  How  do  3'ou  fight  if  you  call  that  playing?"  cried 
Blondet.  . 

Nicolas  gave  him  a  murderous  look.  ] 

''Speak!"  said  Catherine,  gripping  La  Pechina  b3' 
the  forearm  and  leaving  a  blue  bracelet  on  the  flesh. 
"Were  not  we  amusing  ourselves?" 

"  Yes,  madame,  we  were  amusing  ourselves,"  said 
the  child,  exhausted  b3'  her  displa3'  of  strength,  and 
now  breaking  down  as  though  she  were  about  to  faint. 

"  You  hear  what  she  sa3's,  madame,"  said  Catherine, 
boldly,  giving  the  countess  one  of  those  looks  which 
women  give  each  other  like  dagger  thrusts. 


Sons  of  the  Soil  233 

She  took  her  brother's  arm,  and  the  pair  walked  off, 
not  mistaking  the  opinion  they  left  behind  them  in  the 
minds  of  the  three  persons  who  had  interrupted  the 
scene.  Nicolas  twice  looked  back,  and  twice  encoun- 
tered Blondet's  gaze.  The  journalist  continued  to 
watch  the  tall  scoundrel,  who  was  broad  in  the  shoulders, 
healthy  and  vigorous  in  complexion,  with  black  hair 
curling  tightly,  and  whose  rather  soft  face  showed  upon 
its  lips  and  around  the  mouth  certain  lines  which  reveal 
the  peculiar  cruelty  that  characterizes  sluggards  and 
voluptuaries.  Catherine  swung  her  petticoat,  striped 
blue  and  white,  with  an  air  of  insolent  coquetry. 

*'  Cain  and  his  wife !  "  said  Blondet  to  the  abbe. 

*' You  are  nearer  the  truth  than  you  know/'  replied 
the  priest. 

"  Ah  !  Monsieur  le  cure,  what  will  they  do  to  me?  " 
said  La  Pechina,  when  the  brother  and  sister  were  out 
of  sight. 

The  countess,  as  white  as  her  handkerchief,  was  so 
overcome  that  she  heard  neither  Blondet  nor  the  abb4 
nor  La  Pechina. 

"  It  is  enough  to  drive  one  from  this  terrestial  para- 
dise," she  said  at  last.  '*  But  the  first  thing  of  all  is  to 
save  that  child  from  their  claws." 

*'  You  are  right,"  said  Blondet  in  a  low  voice.  "  That 
child  is  a  poem,  a  living  poem." 

Just  then  the  Montenegrin  girl  was  in  a  state  where 
soul  and  body  smoke,  as  it  were,  after  the  conflagration 
of  an  anger  which  has  driven  all  forces,  physical  and 
intellectual,  to  their  utmost  tension.  It  is  an  unspeak- 
able and  supreme  splendor,  which  reveals  itself  only 
under  the  pressure  of  some  frenzy,  be  it  resistance  or 
victory,  love  or  martyrdom.     She  had  left  home  in  a 


234  Sons  of  the  Soil  j 

dress  with  alternate  lines  of  brown  and  yellow,  and  a 
collarette  which  she  pleated  herself  b}'  rising  before  day- 
light ;  and  she  had  not  yet  noticed  the  condition  of  her 
gown  soiled  by  her  struggle  on  the  grass,  and  her  collar 
torn  in  Catherine's  grasp.  Feeling  her  hair  hanging 
loose,  she  looked  about  for  her  comb.  At  this  moment 
Michaud,  also  attracted  b}^  the  screams,  came  upon  the 
scene.  Seeing  her  god,  La  Pechina  recovered  her  full 
strength.  "Monsieur  Michaud,"  she  cried,  "he  did 
not  even  touch  me  I  "  j 

The  cr3',  the  look,  the  action  of  the  girl  were  an  elo- 
quent commentarj^,  and  told  more  to  Blondet  and  the 
abbe  than  Madame  Michaud  had  told  the  countess 
about  the  passion  of  that  strange  nature  for  the  bailiff, 
who  was  utterh'  unconscious  of  it. 

"  The  scoundrel !  "  cried  Michaud. 

Then,  with  an  iuvoluntarj^  and  impotent  gesture, 
such  as  mad  men  and  wise  men  both  can  be  forced  into 
giving,  he  shook  his  fist  in  the  direction  in  which  he 
had  caught  sight  of  Nicolas  disappearing  with  his  sister. 

"  Then  you  were  not  playing?  "  said  the  abbe  with  a 
searching  look  at  La  Pechina. 

"Don't  fret  her,"  interposed  the  countess;  "let  us 
return  to  the  pavilion." 

Genevieve,  though  quite  exhausted,  found  strength 
under  Michaud's  eyes  to  walk.  The  countess  followed 
the  bailiff  through  one  of  the  by-paths  known  to  keep- 
ers and  poachers  where  only  two  can  go  abreast,  and 
which  led  to  the  gate  of  the  Avonne. 

"  Michaud,"  said  the  countess  when  the}^  reached 
the  depth  of  the  wood,  "  We  must  find  some  way  of 
ridding  the  neighborhood  of  such  vile  people ;  that 
child  is  actually  in  danger  of  death." 


Sons  of  the  Soil  285 

*'  In  the  first  place,"  replied  Miehaud,  **  Genevidve 
shall  not  leave  the  pavilion.  M}-  wife  will  be  glad  to 
take  the  nephew  of  Vatel,  who  has  the  care  of  the  park 
roads,  into  the  house.  With  Gounod  (that  is  his  name) 
and  old  Cornevin,  my  wife's  foster-father,  alwa3's  at  hand, 
La  Pechina  need  never  go  out  without  a  protector." 

"  I  will  tell  Monsieur  to  make  up  this  extra  expense 
to  you,"  said  the  countess.  "  But  this  does  not  rid  us 
of  that  Nicolas.     How  can  we  manage  that?  " 

"  The  means  are  eas}^  and  right  at  hand,"  answered 
Michaud.  *'  Nicolas  is  to  appear  very  soon  before  the 
court  of  appeals  on  the  draft.  The  general,  instead  of 
asking  for  his  release,  as  the  Tonsards  expect,  has  only 
to  advise  his  being  sent  to  the  army  —  " 

*'  If  necessar}',  I  will  go  myself,"  said  the  countess, 
"  and  see  my  cousin,  de  Cast^ran,  the  prefect.  But 
until  then,  I  tremble  for  that  child  —  " 

The  words  were  said  at  the  end  of  the  path  close  to 
the  open  space  by  the  bridge.  As  thej-  reached  the 
edge  of  the  bank  the  countess  gave  a  cry ;  Michaud 
advanced  to  help  her,  thinking  she  had  struck  her  foot 
against  a  stone ;  but  he  shuddered  at  the  sight  that 
met  his  eyes. 

Marie  Tonsard  and  Bonn^bault,  seated  below  the 
bank,  seemed  to  be  conversing,  but  were  no  doubt  hid- 
ing there  to  hear  what  passed.  Evidently  they  had 
left  the  wood  as  the  party  advanced  towards  them. 

Bonnebault,  a  tall,  wiry  fellow,  had  lately  returned 
to  Conches  after  six  years'  service  in  the  cavalry,  with 
a  permanent  discharge  due  to  his  evil  conduct,  —  his 
example  being  likely  to  ruin  better  men.  He  wore 
mustachios  and  a  small  chin-tuft ;  a  peculiarity  which, 
joined  to  his  military  carriage,  made  him  the  reigning 


236  Sons  of  the  Soil 

fancy  of  all  the  girls  in  the  vallej'.  His  hair,  in  com- 
mon with  that  of  other  soldiers,  was  cut  very  short 
behind,  but  he  frizzed  it  on  the  top  of  his  head,  brush- 
ing up  the  ends  with  a  dand}^  air ;  on  it  his  foraging 
cap  was  jauntil}'  tilted  to  one  side.  Compared  to  the 
peasants,  who  were  mostly  in  rags,  like  Mouche  and 
Fourchon,  he  seemed  gorgeous  in  his  linen  trousers, 
boots,  and  short  waistcoat.  These  articles,  bought  at 
the  time  of  his  liberation,  were,  it  is  true,  somewhat  the 
worse  for  a  life  in  the  fields  ;  but  this  village  cock-of-the 
walk  had  others  in  reserve  for  balls  and  holiday's.  He 
lived,  it  must  be  said,  on  the  gifts  of  his  female  friends, 
which,  liberal  as  they  were,  hardlj'  sufficed  for  the  liba- 
tions, the  dissipations,  and  the  squanderings  of  all 
kinds  which  resulted  from  his  intimacy  with  the  Caf^ 
de  la  Paix. 

Cowardice  is  like  courage  ;  of  both  there  are  various 
kinds.  Bonnebault  would  have  fought  like  a  brave 
soldier,  but  he  was  weak  in  presence  of  his  vices  and 
his  desires.  Lazy  as  a  lizard,  that  is  to  say,  active 
onl}^  when  it  suited  him,  without  the  shghtest  decency, 
arrogant  and  base,  able  for  much  but  neglectful  of  all, 
the  sole  pleasure  of  this  "  breaker  of  hearts  and  plates  '* 
to  use  a  barrack  term,  was  to  do  evil  or  inflict  damage. 
Such  a  nature  does  as  much  harm  in  rural  communities 
as  it  does  in  a  regiment.  Bonnebault,  like  Tonsard 
and  like  Fourchon,  desired  to  live  well  and  do  nothing ; 
and  he  had  his  plans  laid.  Making  the  most  of  his 
gallant  appearance  with  increasing  success,  and  of  his 
talents  for  billiards  with  alternate  loss  and  gain,  he 
flattered  himself  that  the  day  would  come  when  he 
could  marry  Mademoiselle  Aglae  Socquard,  only  daugh- 
ter of  the  proprietor  of  the  Cafe  de  la  Paix,  a  resort 


i 


Sons  of  the  Soil  237 

which  was  to  Soulanges  what,  relatively  speaking, 
Raiielagh  is  to  the  Bois  de  Boulogne.  To  get  into  the 
business  of  tavern-keeping,  to  manage  the  pubUc  balls, 
what  a  fine  career  for  the  marshal's  baton  of  a  ne'er-do- 
weel  !  These  morals,  this  life,  this  nature,  were  so 
plainly  stamped  upon  the  face  of  the  low-lived  profli- 
gate that  the  countess  was  betraj-ed  into  an  exclama- 
tion when  she  beheld  the  pair,  for  they  gave  her  the 
sensation  of  beholding  snakes. 

Marie,  desperately  in  love  with  Bonnebault,  would 
have  robbed  for  his  benefit.  Those  moustachios,  the 
swaggering  gait  of  a  trooper,  the  fellow's  smart  clothes, 
all  went  to  her  heart  as  the  manners  and  charms  of  a 
de  Marsay  touch  that  of  a  pretty  Parisian.  Each  social 
sphere  has  its  own  standard  of  distinction.  The  jeal- 
ous Marie  rebuffed  Amaury  Lupin,  the  other  dand3'  of 
the  little  town,  her  mind  being  made  up  to  become 
Madame  Bonnebault. 

**  Hey !  you  there,  hi !  come  on !  "  cried  Nicolas 
and  Catherine  from  afar,  catching  sight  of  Marie  and 
Bonnebault. 

The  sharp  call  echoed  through  the  woods  like  the  cry 
of  savages. 

Seeing  the  pair  at  his  feet,  Michaud  shuddered  and 
deepl}^  repented  having  spoken.  If  Bonnebault  and 
Marie  Tonsard  had  overheard  the  conversation,  nothing 
but  harm  could  come  of  it.  This  event,  insignificant  as 
it  seems,  was  destined,  in  the  irritated  state  of  feeling 
then  existing  between  Les  Aigues  and  the  peasantry,  to 
have  a  decisive  influence  on  the  fate  of  all,  —  just  as 
victory  or  defeat  in  battle  sometimes  depends  upon  a 
brook  which  shepherds  jump  while  cannon  are  unable 
to  pass  it. 


238  Sons  of  the  Soil 


1 


Gallantly  bowing  to  the  countess,  Bonnebanlt  passed 
Marie's  arm  through  his  own  with  a  conquering  air  and 
took  himself  off  triumphantly. 

"  The  King  of  Hearts  of  the  valley,"  muttered  Mi- 
chaud  to  the  countess.  ''A  dangerous  man.  When 
he  loses  twenty  francs  at  billiards  he  would  murder 
Rigou  to  get  them  back.  He  loves  a  crime  as  he  does 
a  pleasure." 

"1  have  seen  enough  for  to-day;  take  me  home, 
gentlemen/'  murmured  the  countess,  putting  her  hand 
on  Emile's  arm.  ^M 

She  bowed  sadly  to  Madame  Michaud,  after  watch- ** 
ing  La  Pechina  safely'  back  to  the  pavilion.     Olympe's 
depression  was  transferred  to  her  mistress.  fdl 

"Ah,  madame,"  said  the  abbe,  as  thej^  continued^ 
their  waj^  "  can  it  be  that  the  difficulty  of  doing  good 
is  about  to  deter  you?  F'or  the  last  five  3'ears  I  have 
slept  on  a  pallet  in  a  parsonage  which  has  no  furniture  ; 
I  say  mass  in  a  church  without  believers ;  I  preach  to 
no  hearers ;  I  minister  without  fees  or  salary ;  I  live 
on  the  six  hundred  francs  the  law  allows  me,  asking 
nothing  of  my  bishop,  and  I  give  the  third  of  that  in 
charity.  Still,  I  am  not  hopeless.  If  you  knew  what 
my  winters  are  in  this  place  you  would  understand  the 
strength  of  those  words,  —  I  am  not  hopeless.  I  keep 
m^'self  warm  with  the  belief  that  we  can  save  this  valley 
and  bring  it  back  to  God.  No  matter  for  ourselves, 
uiadame  ;  think  of  the  future  !  If  it  is  our  dut}'  to  say 
to  the  poor,  '  Learn  how  to  be  poor ;  that  is,  how  to 
work,  to  endure,  to  strive,'  it  is  equallj'  our  duty  to  say 
to  the  rich,  'Learn  your  duty  as  prosperous  men,'  — 
that  is  to  say,  '  Be  wise,  be  intelligent  in  3'our  benev- 
olence ;   pious  and  virtuous  in  the  place  to  which  God 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  239 

has  called  you.*  Ah!  madame,  you  are  only  the 
steward  of  Him  who  grants  you  wealth  ;  if  you  do  not 
ohey  His  behests  you  will  never  transmit  to  your  chil- 
dren the  prosperity  He  gives  you.  You  will  rob  your 
posterity.  If  you  follow  in  the  steps  of  that  poor 
singer's  selfishness,  which  caused  the  evils  that  now 
terrify  us,  you  will  bring  back  the  scaffolds  on  which 
your  fathers  died  for  the  faults  of  their  fathers.  To 
do  good  humbly,  in  obscurity,  in  country  solitudes, 
as  Rigou  now  does  evil,  —  ah !  that  indeed  is  prayer 
in  action  and  dear  to  God.  If  in  every  district  three 
souls  only  would  work  for  good,  France,  our  country, 
might  be  saved  from  the  abyss  that  3'awns  ;  into  which 
we  are  rushing  headlong,  through  spiritual  indifference 
to  all  that  is  not  our  own  self-interest.  Change  !  you 
must  change  your  morals,  change  your  ethics,  and  that 
will  change  your  laws." 

Though  deeply  moved  as  she  listened  to  this  grand 
utterance  of  true  catholic  charity,  the  countess  answered 
in  the  fatal  words,  ''  We  will  consider  it,"  —  words  of 
the  rich,  which  contain  that  promise  to  the  ear  which 
saves  their  purses  and  enables  them  to  stand  with  arms 
crossed  in  presence  of  all  disaster,  under  pretext  that 
the}'  were  powerless. 

Hearing  those  words,  the  abbe  bowed  to  Madame  de 
Montcornet  and  turned  off  into  a  path  which  led  him 
direct  to  the  gate  of  Blangy. 

'' Belshazzar's  feast  is  the  everlasting  S3'mbol  of  the 
dying  days  of  a  caste,  of  an  oligarchy,  of  a  power !  " 
he  thought  as  he  walked  away.  *'  My  God  !  if  it  be  Thy 
will  to  loose  the  poor  like  a  torrent  to  reform  societ}',  I 
know,  I  comprehend,  wh}'  it  is  that  Thou  hast  aban- 
doned the  wealthy  to  their  blindness!" 


I 


240  Sons  of  the  Soil. 


xn. 

SHOWETH  HOW  THE  TAVERN  IS  THE  PEOPLE'S 
PARLIAMENT. 

Old  Mother  Tonsard's  screams  brought  a  number  of 
people  from  Blangj-  to  know  what  was  happening  at  the 
Grand- 1- Vert,  the  distance  from  the  village  to  the  inn 
not  being  greater  than  that  from  the  inn  to  the  gate  of 
Blang}'.  One  of  these  inquiring  visitors  was  old  Niseron, 
La  Pechina's  grandfather,  who  was  on  his  way,  after 
ringing  the  second  Angelus,  to  dig  the  yine-rows  in  his 
last  little  bit  of  ground. 

Bent  by  toil,  with  pallid  face  and  silvery  hair,  the 
old  vinedresser,  now  the  sole  representative  of  civic 
virtue  in  the  community,  had  been,  during  the  Revolu- 
tion, president  of  the  Jacobin  club  at  Ville-aux-Fayes, 
and  a  juror  in  the  revolutionary  tribunal  of  the  district. 
Jean -Francois  Niseron,  carved  out  of  the  wood  that  the 
apostles  were  made  of,  was  of  the  type  of  Saint  Peter ; 
whom  painters  and  sculptors  have  united  in  repre- 
senting with  the  square  brow  of  the  people,  the  thick, 
naturall}^  curling  hair  of  the  laborer,  the  muscles  of  the 
man  of  toil,  the  complexion  of  a  fisherman ;  with  the 
large  nose,  the  shrewd,  half-mocking  lips  that  scoff  at 
fate,  the  neck  and  shoulders  of  the  strong  man  who  cuts 
his  wood  to  cook  his  dinner  while  the  doctrinaires  of  his 
opinions  talk. 

Such,  at  fort}^  3'ears  of  age  on  the  breaking  out  of 
the  Revolution,  was  this  man,  strong  as  iron,  pure  as 


Sons  of  the  Soil  241 

gold.  Advocate  of  the  people,  he  believed  in  a  republic 
through  the  very  roll  of  that  name,  more  formidable  in 
sound  perhaps  than  in  reality.  He  believed  in  the  re- 
public of  Jean-Jacques  Rousseau,  in  the  brotherhood  of 
man,  in  the  exchange  of  noble  sentiments,  in  the  pro- 
clamation of  virtue,  in  the  choice  of  merit  without  in- 
trigue, —  in  short,  in  all  that  the  narrow  limits  of  one 
arrondissement  like  Sparta  make  possible,  and  which 
the  vast  proportions  of  an  empire  make  chimerical.  He 
signed  his  beliefs  with  his  blood,  —  his  only  son  went  to 
the  war ;  he  did  more,  he  signed  them  with  the  pros- 
perity of  his  life, — last  sacrifice  of  self.  Nephew  and 
sole  heir  of  the  curate  of  Blang}^  the  then  all-powerful 
tribune  might  have  enforced  his  rights  and  recovered 
the  property  left  by  the  priest  to  his  pretty  servant-girl, 
Arsene ;  but  he  respected  his  uncle's  wishes  and  ac- 
cepted poverty,  which  came  upon  him  as  rapidly  as  the 
fall  of  his  cherished  republic  came  upon  France. 

Never  a  farthing's  worth,  never  so  much  as  the  branch 
of  a  tree  belonging  to  another  passed  into  the  hands  of 
this  noble  republican,  who  would  have  made  the  republic 
acceptable  to  the  world  if  he  and  such  as  he  could  have 
guided  it.  He  refused  to  bu}'  the  national  domains  ;  he 
denied  the  right  of  the  Republic  to  confiscate  property-. 
In  reply  to  all  demands  of  the  committee  of  pubUc  safet3' 
he  asserted  that  the  virtue  of  citizens  would  do  for  their 
sacred  countr}-  what  low  political  intriguers  did  for 
money.  This  patriot  of  antiquity  publicly  reproved 
Gaubertin's  father  for  his  secret  treacher}',  his  under- 
hand bargaining,  his  malversations.  He  reprimanded 
the  virtuous  Mouchon,  that  representative  of  the  people 
whose  virtue  was  nothing  more  nor  less  than  incapacity, 
—  as  it  is  with  so  many  other  legislators  who,  gorged 

16 


242  Sons  of  the  Soil, 

with  the  greatest  political  resources  that  any  nation 
ever  gave,  armed  with  the  whole  force  of  a  people,  are 
still  unable  to  bring  forth  from  them  the  grandeur 
which  Richelieu  wrung  for  France  out  of  the  weakness 
of  a  king.  Consequently,  citizen  Niseron  became  a 
living  reproach  to  the  people  about  him.  They  en- 
deavored to  put  him  out  of  sight  and  mind  with  the 
reproachful  remark,  "Nothing  satisfies  that  man." 

The  patriot-peasant  returned  to  his  cot  at  Blangy  and 
watched  the  destruction,  one  b}-  one,  of  his  illusions  ; 
he  saw  his  republic  come  to  an  end  at  the  heels  of  an 
emperor,  while  he  himself  fell  into  utter  povert}-,  to 
which  Rigou  stealthil}'  managed  to  reduce  him.  And 
why?  Because  Niseron  had  never  been  willing  to  ac- 
cept anything  from  him.  Reiterated  refusals  showed  the 
ex-priest  in  what  profound  contempt  the  nephew  of  the 
curate  held  him  ;  and  now  that  icy  scorn  was  revenged 
by  the  terrible  threat  as  to  his  little  granddaughter,  about 
which  the  Abbe  Brossette  spoke  to  the  countess.  J 

The  old  man  had  composed  in  his  own  mind  a  history^ 
of  the  twelve  years  of  the  French  republic,  filled  with  the 
glorious  features  which  gave  immortality  to  that  heroic 
period  to  the  exclusion  of  all  else.  The  infamous  deeds, 
the  massacres,  the  spoliations,  his  virtuous  soul  ig- 
nored ;  he  admired,  with  a  single  mind,  the  devoted- 
ness  of  the  people,  the  "  Vengeur,"  the  gifts  to  the 
nation,  the  uprising  of  the  countr}'  to  defend  its  frontier  ; 
and  he  still  pursued  his  dream  that  he  might  sleep  in 
peace. 

The  Revolution  produced  many  poets  like  old  Niseron,. 
who  sang  their  poems  in  the  country  solitudes,  in  the 
army,  openly  or  secretly,  b}^  deeds  buried  beneath  the 
whirlwind  of  that  storm,  just  as  the  wounded  left  be- 


I 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  248 

hind  to  die  in  the  great  wars  of  the  empire  cried  out, 
*' Long  live  the  Emperor!"  This  sublimity  of  soul 
belongs  especially  to  France.  The  Abbe  Brossette  re- 
spected the  convictions  of  the  old  man,  who  became 
simply  but  deeply  attached  to  the  priest  from  hearing 
him  say,  ''The  true  republic  is  in  the  Gospel."  The 
stanch  republican  carried  the  cross,  and  wore  the  sex- 
ton's robe,  half-red,  half-black,  and  was  grave  and  dig- 
nified in  church,  —  supporting  himself  by  the  triple 
functions  with  which  he  was  invested  by  the  abbe,  who 
was  able  to  give  the  fine  old  man,  not,  to  be  sure, 
enough  to  live  on,  but  enough  to  keep  him  from  dying 
of  hunger. 

Niseron,  the  Aristides  of  Blangy,  spoke  little,  like  all 
noble  dupes  who  wrap  themselves  in  the  mantle  of  re- 
signation ;  but  he  was  never  silent  against  evil,  and  the 
peasants  feared  him  as  thieves  fear  the  police.  He 
seldom  came  more  than  six  times  a  year  to  the  Grand- 
I-Vert,  though  he  was  always  warmly-  welcomed  there. 
The  old  man  cursed  the  want  of  charity  of  the  rich,  — 
their  selfishness  disgusted  him ;  and  through  this  fibre 
of  his  mind  he  seemed  to  the  peasants  to  belong  to 
them  ;  they  were  in  the  habit  of  saying,  "  Pere  Niseron 
does  n't  like  the  rich  ;  he 's  one  of  us." 

The  civic  crown  won  by  this  noble  life  throughout  the 
valley  lay  in  these  words :  "That  good  old  Niseron! 
there  's  not  a  more  honest  man."  Often  taken  as  um- 
pire in  certain  kinds  of  disputes,  he  embodied  the  mean- 
ing of  that  archaic  term,  —  the  village  elder.  Always 
extremeh'  clean,  though  threadbare,  he  wore  breeches, 
coarse  woollen  stockings,  hob-nailed  shoes,  the  distinc- 
tively French  coat  with  large  buttons  and  the  broad- 
brimmed  felt  hat  to  which  all  old  peasants  cling ;  but 


244  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

for  dail}'  wear  he  kept  a  blue  jacket  so  patched  and 
darned  that  it  looked  like  a  bit  of  tapestr}'.  The  pride 
of  a  man  who  feels  he  is  free,  and  knows  he  is  worthy  of 
freedom,  gave  to  his  countenance  and  his  whole  bear- 
ing a  something  that  was  inexpressiblj^  noble ;  3'ou 
would  have  felt  he  wore  a  robe,  not  rags. 

"  He}^ !  what  *s  happening  so  unusual?  "  he  said,  "  I 
heard  the  noise  down  here  from  the  belfry." 

The}"  told  him  of  Vatel's  attack  on  the  old  woman, 
talking  all  at  once  after  the  fashion  of  country-people. 

*'  If  she  did  n't  cut  the  tree,  Vatel  was  wrong  ;  but  if 
she  did  cut  it,  you  have  done  two  bad  actions,"  said 
Pere  Niseron. 

"Take  some  wine,"  said  Tonsard,  offering  a  full 
glass  to  the  old  man. 

"Shall  we  start?"  said  Vermichel  to  the  sheriffs 
officer. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Brunet,  "we  must  do  without  Pere 
Fourchon  and  take  the  assistant  at  Conches.  Go  on 
before  me ;  I  have  a  paper  to  carry  to  the  chateau. 
Rigou  has  gained  his  second  suit,  and  I  've  got  to 
deliver  the  verdict." 

So  saying,  Monsieur  Brunet,  all  the  livelier  for  a 
couple  of  glasses  of  brandy,  mounted  his  gray  mare 
after  saying  good-bye  to  Pere  Niseron  ;  for  the  whole 
valle}^  were  desirous  in  their  hearts  of  the  good  man's 
esteem. 

No  science,  not  even  that  of  statistics,  can  explain 
the  rapidity  with  whicli  news  flies  in  the  countr}-,  nor 
how  it  spreads  over  those  ignorant  and  untaught  re- 
gions which  are,  in  France,  a  standing  reproach  to  the 
government  and  to  (  npitalists.  Contemporaneous  his- 
tory can  show  that  a  famous  banker,  after  driving  post- 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  245 

horses  to  death  between  Waterloo  and  Paris  (everybody 
knows  wh}'  —  he  gained  what  the  Emperor  lost,  a  com- 
mission!) carried  the  fatal  news  only  three  hours  in 
advance  of  rumor.  So,  not  an  hour  after  the  encounter 
between  old  mother  Tonsard  and  Vatel,  a  number  of 
the  customers  of  the  Grand-I-Vert  assembled  there  to 
hear  the  tale. 

The  first  to  come  was  Courtecuisse,  in  whom  you 
would  scarcely  have  recognized  the  once  jovial  forester, 
the  rubicund  do-nothing,  whose  wife  made  his  morning 
coffee  as  we  have  before  seen.  Aged,  and  thin,  and 
haggard,  he  presented  to  all  eyes  a  lesson  that  no  one 
learned.  "He  tried  to  climb  higher  than  the  ladder," 
was  what  his  neighbors  said  when  others  pitied  him 
and  blamed  Rigou.  "  He  wanted  to  be  a  bourgeois 
himself." 

In  fact,  Courtecuisse  did  intend  to  pass  for  a  bour- 
geois in  buying  the  Bachelerie,  and  he  even  boasted  of 
it ;  though  his  wife  went  about  the  roads  gathering  up 
the  horse-droppings.  She  and  Courtecuisse  got  up 
before  daylight,  dug  their  garden,  which  was  richly 
manured,  and  obtained  several  yearly  crops  from  it, 
without  being  able  to  do  more  than  pay  the  interest  due 
to  Rigou  for  the  rest  of  the  purchase-money.  Their 
daughter,  who  was  living  at  service  in  Auxerre,  sent 
them  her  wages ;  but  in  spite  of  all  their  efforts,  in 
spite  of  this  help,  the  last  da}'  for  the  final  payment  was 
approaching  and  not  a  penny  in  hand  with  which  to 
meet  it.  Madame  Courtecuisse,  who  in  former  times 
occasionally  allowed  herself  a  bottle  of  boiled  wine  or 
a  bit  of  roast  meat,  now  drank  nothing  but  water. 
Courtecuisse  was  afraid  to  go  to  the  Grand-I-Vert  lest 
he  should  have  to  leave  three  sous  behind  him.     De- 


246  Sons  of  the  Soil 

prived  of  power,  he  had  lost  his  privilege  of  free 
drinks,  and  he  bitterly  complained,  like  all  other  fools, 
of  man's  ingratitude.  In  short,  he  found,  according 
to  the  experience  of  all  peasants  bitten  with  the  demon 
of  proprietorship,  that  toil  had  increased  and  food 
decreased. 

"  Courtecuisse  has  done  too  much  to  the  propert}'," 
the  people  said,  secretly  envying  his  position.  "  He 
ought  to  have  waited  till  he  had  paid  the  money  down 
and  was  master  before  he  put  up  those  fruit  palings." 

With  the  help  of  his  wife  he  had  managed  to  manure 
and  cultivate  the  three  acres  of  land  sold  to  him  b}' 
Rigou,  together  with  the  garden  adjoining  the  house, 
which  was  beginning  to  be  productive ;  and  he  was  in 
danger  of  being  turned  out  of  it  all.  Clothed  in  rags 
like  Fourchon,  poor  Courtecuisse,  who  lately  wore  the 
boots  and  gaiters  of  a  huntsman,  now  thrust  his  feet 
into  sabots  and  accused  "  the  rich"  of  Les  Aigues  of 
having  caused  his  destitution.  These  wearing  anxie- 
ties had  given  to  the  fat  little  man  and  his  once  smiling 
and  rosy  face  a  gloom}'  and  dazed  expression,  as 
though  he  were  ill  from  the  effects  of  poison  or  with 
some  chronic  malad3\ 

''What's  the  matter  with  you.  Monsieur  Courte- 
cuisse; is  your  tongue  tied?"  asked  Tonsard,  as  the 
man  continued  silent  after  he  had  told  him  about  the 
battle  which  had  just  taken  place. 

"No,  no!"  cried  Madame  Tonsard;  "he  needn't 
complain  of  the  midwife  who  cut  his  string,  —  she  made 
a  good  job  of  it." 

"It  is  enough  to  make  a  man  dumb,  thinking  from 
morning  till  night  of  some  wa}'  to  escape  Rigou,"  said 
the  premature  old  man,  gloomily. 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  247 

**  Bah  !  "  said  old  Mother  Tonsard,  "  j'ou  Ve  got  a 
pretty  daughter,  seventeen  years  old.  If  she  *s  a  good 
girl  you  can  easily'  manage  matters  with  that  old  jail- 
bird —  " 

*'  We  sent  her  to  Auxerre  two  years  ago  to  Madame 
Mariotte  the  elder,  to  keep  her  out  of  harm's  way ;  I'd 
rather  die  than  —  " 

*'  What  a  fool  you  are  !  "  said  Tonsard,  "  look  at  my 
girls,  —  are  they  any  the  worse  ?  He  who  dares  to  say 
they  are  not  as  virtuous  as  marble  images  will  have  to 
do  with  m}^  gun." 

'*  It'll  be  hard  to  have  to  come  to  that,"  said  Courte- 
cuisse,  shaking  his  head.  "  I'd  rather  earn  the  money 
by  shooting  one  of  those  Arminacs." 

*'  Well,  I  call  it  better  for  a  girl  to  save  a  father  than 
to  wrap  up  her  virtue  and  let  it  mildew,"  retorted  the 
innkeeper. 

Tonsard  felt  a  sharp  tap  on  his  shoulder,  delivered 
by  Pere  Niseron. 

**  That  is  not  a  right  thing  to  say !  "  cried  the  old 
man.  "  A  father  is  the  guardian  of  the  honor  of  his 
family.  It  is  by  behaving  as  j^ou  do  that  scorn  and 
contempt  are  brought  upon  us ;  it  is  because  of  such 
conduct  that  the  People  are  accused  of  being  unfit  for 
liberty.  The  People  should  set  an  example  of  civic 
virtue  and  honor  to  the  rich.  You  all  sell  yourselves 
to  Rigou  for  gold ;  and  if  you  don't  sell  him  your 
daughters,  at  any  rate  you  sell  him  j'our  honor,  —  and 
it's  wrong." 

*' Just  see  what  a  position  Courtecuisse  is  in,"  said 
Tonsard. 

*'  See  what  a  position  I  am  in,"  replied  Pere  Niseron  ; 
"  but  I  sleep  in  peace  ;  there  are  no  thorns  in  my  pillow." 


248  Sons  of  the  Soil 


1 


''  Let  him  talk,  Tonsard,"  whispered  his  wife,  "  j'ou 
know  the}'  're  just  his  notions^  poor  dear  man." 

Bonnebault  and  Marie,  Catherine  and  her  brother 
came  in  at  this  moment  in  a  state  of  exasperation, 
which  had  begun  with  Nicolas's  failure,  and  was  raised 
to  the  highest  pitch  b}^  Michaud's  advice  to  the  coun- 
tess about  Bonnebault.  As  Nicolas  entered  the  tavern 
he  was  uttering  frightful  threats  against  the  Michaud 
famih'  and  Les  Aigues. 

"The  harvest's  coming;  well,  I  vow  I'll  not  go 
before  I  've  lighted  m}-  pipe  at  their  wheat-stacks,"  he 
cried,  striking  his  fist  on  the  table  as  he  sat  down. 

"  Must  n't  yelp  like  that  before  people/'  said  Godain, 
showing  him  Pere  Niseron. 

"If  the  old  fellow  tells,  I'll  wring  his  neck,"  said 
Catherine.  "  He  's  had  his  day,  that  old  peddler  of 
foolish  reasons  !  They  call  him  virtuous  ;  it 's  his  tem- 
perament keeps  him  so,  that 's  all." 

Strange  and  noteworthy  sight !  — that  of  those  lifted 
heads,  that  group  of  persons  gathered  in  the  reeking 
hovel,  while  old  Mother  Tonsard  stood  sentinel  at  the 
door  as  seeurit}^  for  the  secret  words  of  the  drinkers. 

Of  all  those  faces,  that  of  Godain,  Catherine's  suitor, 
was  perhaps  the  most  alarming,  though  the  least  pro- 
nounced. Godain,  a  miser  without  mone}', —  the  cruel- 
lest of  all  misers,  for  he  who  seeks  mone}'  surely  takes 
precedence  of  him  who  hoards  it,  one  turning  his 
eagerness  within  himself,  the  other  looking  outside 
with  terrible  intentness,  —  Godain  represented  the  tj-pe 
of  the  majority  of  peasant  faces. 

He  was  a  journeyman,  small  in  frame,  and  saved 
from  the  draft  by  not  attaining  the  required  military 
height ;  naturally  lean  and  made  more  so  by  hard  work 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  249 

and  the  enforced  sobriety  under  which  reluctant  workers 
like  Courtecuisse  succumb.  His  face  was  no  bigger 
than  a  man's  fist,  and  was  lighted  b}^  a  pair  of  yellow 
ej-es  with  greenish  stripes  and  brown  spots,  in  which 
a  thirst  for  the  possession  of  property  was  mingled 
with  a  concupiscence  which  had  no  heat,  —  for  desire, 
once  at  the  boiling-point,  had  now  stiffened  like  lava. 
His  skin,  brown  as  that  of  a  mummy,  was  glued  to  his 
temples.  His  scanty  beard  bristled  among  his  wrinkles 
like  stubble  in  the  furrows.  Godain  never  perspired,  he 
reabsorbed  his  substance.  His  hairy  hands,  formed 
like  claws,  nervous,  never  still,  seemed  to  be  made  of 
old  wood.  Though  scarcel}^  twenty-seven  years  of  age, 
white  lines  were  beginning  to  show  in  his  rusty  black 
hair.  He  wore  a  blouse,  through  the  breast  opening  of 
which  could  be  seen  a  shirt  of  coarse  linen,  so  black 
that  he  must  have  worn  it  a  month  and  washed  it  him- 
self in  the  Thune.  His  sabots  were  mended  with  old 
iron.  The  original  stuff  of  his  trousers  was  unrecog- 
nizable from  the  darns  and  the  infinite  number  of 
patches.  On  his  head  was  a  horrible  cap,  evidently 
cast  off  and  picked  up  in  the  doorway  of  some  bour- 
geois house  in  Ville-aux-Fa^'es. 

Clearsighted  enough  to  estimate  the  elements  of 
good  fortune  that  centred  in  Catherine  Tonsard,  his 
ambition  was  to  succeed  her  father  at  the  Grand-I- 
Vert.  He  made  use  of  all  his  craftiness  and  all  his  ac- 
tual powers  to  capture  her ;  he  promised  her  wealth,  fie 
also  promised  her  the  license  her  mother  had  enjo3'ed  ; 
besides  this,  he  offered  his  prospective  father-in-law  an 
enormous  rental,  five  hundred  francs  a  year,  for  his  inn, 
until  he  could  buy  him  out,  trusting  to  an  agreement  he 
had  made  with  Monsieur  Brunet  to  pay  these  costs  by 


250  Sons  of  the  Soil, 

notes  on  stamped  paper.  B}'  trade  a  journeyman  tool- 
maker,  this  gnome  worked  for  the  wheelwrights  when 
work  was  plentiful,  but  he  also  hired  himself  out  for 
any  extra  labor  which  was  well  paid.  Though  he 
possessed,  unknown  to  the  whole  neighborhood,  eigh- 
teen hundred  francs  now  in  Gaubertin's  hands,  he  lived 
like  a  beggar,  slept  in  a  barn,  and  gleaned  at  the  har- 
vests. He  wore  Gaubertin's  receipt  for  his  money  sewn 
into  the  waist-belt  of  his  trousers,  —  having  it  renewed 
every  year  with  its  own  added  interest  and  the  amount 
of  his  savings. 

''  Hey  !  what  do  I  care?  "  cried  Nicolas,  replying  to 
Godain's  prudent  advice  not  to  talk  before  Niseron. 
"If  I'm  doomed  to  be  a  soldier  I  'd  rather  the  saw- 
dust of  the  basket  sucked  up  mj'  blood  than  have  it 
dribbled  out  drop  b}^  drop  in  the  battles.  I  '11  deliver 
this  country  of  at  least  one  of  those  Arminacs  that  the 
devil  has  launched  upon  us." 

And  he  related  what  he  called  Michaud's  plot  against 
him,  which  Marie  and  Bonnebault  had  overheard.  ^ 

"Where  do  you  expect   France  to  find  soldiers?"" 
said   the  white-haired   old   man,   rising   and    standing 
before  Nicolas   during  the  silence  which  followed  the 
utterance  of  this  threat. 

"  We  serve  our  time  and  come  home  again,"  remarked 
Bonnebault,  twirling  his  moustache. 

Observing  that  all  the  worst  characters  of  the  neigh- 
borhood were  collecting,  Pere  Niseron  shook  his  head 
and  left  the  tavern,  after  offering  a  farthing  to  Madame 
Tonsard  in  payment  for  his  glass  of  wine.  When  the 
worthy  man  had  gone  down  the  steps  a  movement  of 
relief  and  satisfaction  passed  through  the  assembled 
drinkers  which  would  have  told  whoever  w^atched  them 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  251 

that  each  man  in  that  company  felt  he  was  rid  of  the 
living  image  of  his  own  conscience. 

•"*  Well,  what  do  you  say  to  all  that,  hey,  Courte- 
cuisse?"  asked  Vaudo3'er,  who  had  just  come  in,  and 
to  whom  Tonsard  had  related  Vatel's  attempt. 

Courtecuisse  clacked  his  tongue  against  the  roof  of 
his  mouth  and  set  his  glass  on  the  table. 

"  Vatel  put  himself  in  the  wrong,"  he  said.  "  If  I 
were  Mother  Tonsard,  I'd  give  myself  a  few  wounds 
and  go  to  bed  and  say  I  was  ill,  and  have  that  Shop- 
man and  his  keeper  up  before  the  assizes  and  get  twenty 
crowns  damages.     Monsieur  Sarcus  would  give  them." 

*'  In  any  case  the  Shopman  would  give  them  to  stop 
the  talk  it  would  make,"  said  Godain. 

Vaudoyer,  the  former  field -keeper,  a  man  five  feet 
six  inches  tall,  with  a  face  pitted  with  the  small-pox 
and  furrowed  like  a  nut-cracker,  kept  silence  with  a 
hesitating  air. 

"Well,  you  old  ninny,  does  that  ruffle  you?"  asked 
Tonsard,  attracted  by  the  idea  of  damages.  "  If  they 
had  broken  twenty  crowns'  worth  of  my  mother's  bones 
we  could  turn  it  to  good  account ;  we  might  make  a  fine 
fuss  for  three  hundred  francs  ;  Monsieur  Gourdon  would 
go  to  Les  Aigues  and  tell  them  that  the  mother  had  got 
a  broken  hip  —  " 

"  And  break  it,  too,"  interrupted  Madame  Tonsard  ; 
"the}'  do  that  in  Paris." 

"  It  would  cost  too  much,"  remarked  Godain. 

"  I  have  been  too  long  among  the  people  who  rule 
us  to  believe  that  matters  will  go  as  3'ou  want  them," 
said  Vaudoyer  at  last,  remembering  his  past  official 
intercourse  with  the  courts  and  the  gendarmerie.  "If 
it  were  at  Soulanges,  now,  it  might  be  done  ;  Monsieur 


252  Sons  of  the  Soil.  | 

Soudr}^  represents  the  government  there,  and  he  does  n't 
wish  well  to  the  Shopman  ;  but  if  you  attack  the  Shop- 
man and  Vatel  they  '11  defend  themselves  viciously ; 
they  '11  sa}^,  '  The  woman  was  to  blame  ;  she  had  a  tree, 
otherwise  she  would  have  let  her  bundle  be  examined 
on  the  highroad ;  she  would  n't  have  run  away ;  if  an 
accident  happened  to  her  it  was  through  her  own  fault.' 
No,  you  can't  trust  to  that  plan." 

''  The  Shopman  did  n't  resist  when  I  sued  him,"  said 
Courtecuisse  ;   "he  paid  me  at  once." 

"I'll  go  to  Soulanges,  if  3'ou  hke,"  said  Bonnebault, 
"  and  consult  Monsieur  Gourdon,  the  clerk  of  the  court, 
and  you  shall  know  to-night  if  there  's  rtioney  in  it.^^ 

"  You  are  only  making  an  excuse  to  be  after  that  big 
goose  of  a  girl,  Socquard's  daughter,"  said  Marie 
Tonsard,  giving  Bonnebault  a  slap  on  the  shoulder 
that  made  his  lungs  hum. 

Just  then  a  verse  of  an  old  Burgundian  Christmas 
carol  was  heard  :  — 

*'  One  fine  moment  of  his  life 
Was  at  the  wedding  feast; 
He  changed  the  water  into  wine,  — 
Madeira  of  the  best." 

Every  one  recognized  the  vinous  voice  of  old  Four- 
chon,  to  whom  the  verse  must  have  been  peculiarly 
lagreeable ;  Mouchon  accompanied  in  his  treble  tones. 

"Ha!  they 're  full !  "  cried  old  Mother  Tonsard  to 
her  daughter-in-law;  "your  father  is  as  red  as  a  grid- 
iron, and  that  chip  o'  the  old  block  as  pink  as  vine- 
shoot." 

"Your  healths!"  cried  the  old  man,  "and  a  fine 
lot  of  scoundrels  you  are  !  All  hail !  "  he  said  to  his 
granddaughter,  whom    he    spied    kissing   Bonnebault, 


I 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  253 

*'hail,  Marie,  full  of  vice !  Satan  is  with  thee;  cursed 
art  thou  among  women,  etcetra.  All  hail,  the  coiupan^^ 
present !  you  are  done  for,  every  one  of  you  !  you  may 
just  sa}^  good-bye  to  your  sheaves.  I  bring  news.  1 
always  told  you  the  rich  would  crush  us ;  well  now,  the 
Shopman  is  going  to  have  the  law  of  3'ou !  Ha !  see 
what  it  is  to  struggle  against  those  bourgeois  fellows, 
who  have  made  so  many  laws  since  they  got  into 
power  that  thev  've  a  law  to  enforce  every  trick  they 
play-" 

A  violent  hiccough  gave  a  sudden  turn  to  the  ideas 
of  the  distinguished  orator. 

'*  If  Vermichel  were  only  here  I  'd  blow  in  his  gullet, 
and  he  'd  get  an  idea  of  sherry  wine.  Hey  !  what  a 
wine  it  is !  If  I  was  n't  a  Burgundian  I  'd  be  a  Span- 
iard !  It's  God's  own  wine!  the  pope  sa3s  mass  with 
it —  Hey  !  I  'm  young  again  !  Say,  Courtecuisse  !  if 
3'our  wife  were  only  here  we  'd  be  young  together. 
Don't  tell  me !  Spanish  wine  is  worth  a  dozen  of 
boiled  wine.  Let's  have  a  revolution  if  it's  only  to 
empty  the  cellars  !  " 

"But  what's  \'our  news,  papa?"   said  Tonsard. 

"  There  '11  be  no  harvest  for  you  ;  the  Shopman  has 
given  orders  to  stop  the  gleaning." 

**  Stop  the  gleaning!  "  cried  the  whole  tavern,  with 
one  voice,  in  which  the  shrill  tones  of  the  four  women 
predominated. 

*'  Yes,"  said  Mouche,  "he  is  going  to  issue  an  order, 
and  Groison  is  to  take  it  round,  and  post  it  up  all  over 
the  canton.  No  one  is  to  glean  except  those  who  have 
pauper  certificates." 

"  And  what's  more,"  said  Fourchon,  "  the  folks  from 
the  other  districts  won't  be  allowed  here  at  all." 


254  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

*'  What 's  that?  "  cried  Bonnebault,  "  do  3'ou  mean  to 
tell  me  that  neither  my  grandmother  nor  I,  nor  your 
mother,  Godain,  can  come  here  and  glean?  Here's 
tomfoolery  for  you  ;  a  pretty  show  of  authorit}' !  Why, 
the  fellow  is  a  devil  let  loose  from  hell,  —  that  scoundrel 
of  a  ma^'or  !  " 

''Shall  you  glean  whether  or  no,  Godain?"  said 
Tonsard  to  the  journeyman  wheelwright,  who  was  say- 
ing a  few  words  to  Catherine. 

"I?  I've  no  property  ;  1  'm  a  pauper,"  he  replied  ; 
"  I  shall  ask  for  a  certificate." 

"  What  did  they  give  my  father  for  his  otter,  bibi?" 
said  Madame  Tonsard  to  Mouche. 

Though  nearly  at  his  last  gasp  from  an  over-taxed 
digestion  and  two  bottles  of  wine,  Mouche,  sitting  on 
Madame  Tonsard's  lap,  laid  his  head  on  his  aunt's  neck 
and  whispered  slyly  in  her  ear :  — 

"  I  don't  know,  but  he  has  got  gold.  If  you'll  feed 
me  high  for  a  month,  perhaps  I  can  find  out  his  hiding- 
place  ;   he  has  one,  I  know  that.'' 

"  Father's  got  gold  !  "  whispered  La  Tonsard  to  her 
husband,  whose  voice  was  loudest  in  the  uproar  of  the 
excited  discussion,  in  which  all  present  took  part. 

"  Hush  !   here's  Groison,"  cried  the  old  sentinel. 

Perfect  silence  reigned  in  the  tavern.  When  Groison 
had  got  to  a  safe  distance.  Mother  Tonsard  made  a  sign, 
and  the  discussion  began  again  on  the  question  as  to 
whether  they  should  persist  in  gleaning,  as  before,  with- 
out a  certificate. 

"  You'll  have  to  give  in,"  said  Pere  Fourchon  ;  "  for 
the  Shopman  has  gone  to  see  the  prefect  and  get  troops 
to  enforce  the  order.  They  '11  shoot  3'ou  like  dogs,  — 
and  that 's  what  we  are  !  "  cried  the  old  man,  trvino  to 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  255 

conquer  the  thickening  of  his  speech  produced  by  his 
potations  of  sherry. 

This  fresh  announcement,  absurd  as  it  was,  made  all 
the  drinkers  thoughtful ;  they  really  believed  the  govern- 
ment capable  of  slaughtering  them  without  \nty. 

"  I  remember  just  such  troubles  near  Toulouse,  when 
I  was  stationed  there,"  said  Bonuebault.  "We  were 
marched  out,  and  the  peasants  were  cut  and  slashed 
and  arrested.  Everybod}'  laughed  to  see  them  try  to 
resist  cavahy.  Ten  were  sent  to  the  galleys,  and  eleven 
put  in  prison ;  the  whole  thing  was  crushed.  Iley ! 
what?  why,  soldiers  are  soldiers,  and  you  are  nothing 
but  civilian  beggars ;  they  've  a  right,  they  think,  to 
sabre  peasants,  the  devil  take  you  !  " 

''Well,  well,"  said  Tonsard,  "what  is  there  in  all 
that  to  frighten  you  like  kids  ?  What  can  they  get  out 
of  my  mother  and  my  daughters?  Put  'em  in  prison? 
well,  then  the}'  must  feed  them  ;  and  the  Shopman  can't 
imprison  the  whole  country.  Besides,  prisoners  are 
better  fed  at  the  king's  expense  than  they  are  at  their 
own  ;  and  they  're  kept  warmer,  too." 

"  You  are  a  pack  of  fools  !  "  roared  Fourchon.  "  Bet- 
ter gnaw  at  the  bourgeois  than  attack  him  in  front ; 
otherwise,  you  '11  get  your  backs  broke.  If  you  like  the 
galleys,  so  be  it,  —  that 's  another  thing  !  You  don't 
work  as  hard  there  as  you  do  in  the  fields,  true  enough  ; 
but  you  doji't  have  your  libert}'." 

"Perhaps  it  would  be  well,"  said  Vaudoyer,  who  was 
among  the  more  valiant  in  counsel,  "  if  some  of  us 
risked  our  skins  to  deliver  the  neighborhood  of  tliat 
Languedoc  fellow  who  has  planted  himself  at  the  gate 
of  the  Avonne." 

"Do  Midland's  business  for  him?"  said  Nicolas; 
**I'm  good  for  that." 


256  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

"Things  are  not  ripe  for  it,"  said  old  Fourchon. 
''  We  should  risk  too  much,  my  children.  The  best  waj^ 
is  to  make  ourselves  look  miserable  and  cry  famine ; 
then  the  Shopman  and  his  wife  will  want  to  help  us, 
and  3^ou  '11  get  more  out  of  them  that  wa}'  than  you  will 
bj^  gleaning." 

"  You  are  all  blind  moles,"  shouted  Tonsard,  "  let  'em 
pick  a  quarrel  with  their  law  and  their  troops,  they  can't 
put  the  whole  countrj'  in  irons,  and  we've  plenty  of 
friends  at  Ville-aux-Fayes  and  among  the  old  lords 
who'll  sustain  us." 

''That's  true,"  said  Courtecuisse ;  "none  of  the 
other  land-owners  complain,  it  is  only  the  Shopman ; 
Monsieur  de  Soulanges  and  Monsieur  de  Ronquerolles 
and  others,  they  are  satisfied.  When  I  think  that  if 
that  cuirassier  had  onlj-  had  the  courage  to  let  himself 
be  killed  like  the  rest  I  should  still  be  happy  at  the 
gate  of  the  Avonne,  and  that  it  was  he  that  turned  my 
life  tops3'-turv3%  it  just  puts  me  beside  myself." 

"The}'  won't  call  out  the  troops  for  a  Shopman  who 
has  set  ever}"  one  in  the  district  against  him,"  said  Go- 
dain.  "The  fault's  his  own;  he  tried  to  ride  over 
everybody  here,  and  upset  everything ;  and  the  govern- 
ment will  just  say  to  him,  '  Hush  up.' " 

"  The  government  never  says  an3'thingelse  ;  it  can't, 
poor  government ! "  said  Fourchon,  seized  with  a  sudden 
tenderness  for  the  government.  "  Yes,  I  pity  it,  that 
good  government ;  it  is  ver}'  unlucky,  —  it  has  n't  a 
penny,  like  us  ;  but  that 's  ver}'  stupid  of  a  government 
that  makes  the  mone}'  itself,  very  stupid !  Ah !  if  I 
were  the  government  —  " 

"  But,"  cried  Courtecuisse,  "  the}-  tell  me  in  Ville- 
aux-Fayes  that  Monsieur  de  Ronquerolles  talked  about 
our  rights  in  the  Assembly.'* 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  257 

"  That's  in  Monsieur  Rigou's  newspaper,"  said  Vaii- 
doyer,  who  in  his  capacity  of  ex-field-keeper  knew  how 
to  read  and  write  ;  "  I  read  it  —  " 

In  spite  of  his  vinous  tenderness,  old  Fourchon,  like 
many  of  the  lower  classes  whose  faculties  are  stimulated 
bj"  drunkenness,  was  following,  with  an  intelligent  eya 
and  a  keen  ear,  this  curious  discussion  which  a  variety 
of  asides  rendered  still  more  curious.  Suddenly,  he 
stood  up  in  the  middle  of  the  room. 

*'  Listen  to  the  old  one,  he 's  drunk  !  "  said  Tonsard, 
*'  and  when  he  is,  he  is  twice  as  full  of  deviltry ;  he 
has  his  own  and  that  of  the  wine  —  " 

*'  Spanish  wine,  and  that  trebles  it !  "  cried  Fourchon, 
laughing  like  a  sat3*r.  ''  My  sons,  don't  butt  your  head 
straight  at  the  thing,  —  you  're  too  weak  ;  go  at  it  side- 
ways. La}^  low,  play  dead  ;  the  little  woman  is  scared. 
I  tell  you,  the  thing '11  come  to  an  end  before  long; 
she  '11  leave  the  place,  and  if  she  does  the  Shopman  will 
follow  her,  for  she  's  his  passion.  That 's  your  plan. 
Only,  to  make  'em  go  faster,  my  advice  is  get  rid  of 
their  counsellor,  their  support,  our  sp}',  our  ape  —  " 

'*  Who's  that?" 

''  The  damned  abbe,  of  course,"  said  Tonsard  ;  "  that 
hunter  after  sins,  who  thinks  the  host  is  food  enough 
for  us." 

'*  That's  true,"  cried  Vaudoyer ;  *' we  were  happy 
enough  till  he  came.  We  ought  to  get  rid  of  that  eater 
of  the  good  God,  —  he  's  the  real  enem}^" 

"  Finikin,"  added  Fourchon,  using  a  nickname  which 
the  abbe  owed  to  his  prim  and  rather  puny  appearance, 
*'  might  be  led  into  temptation  and  fall  into  the  power 
of  some  sly  girl,  for  he  fasts  so  much.  Then  if  we 
could  catch  him  in  the  act  and  drum  him  up  with  a  good 

17 


258  Sons  of  the  Soil  -^ 

charivari,  the  bishop  would  be  obliged  to  send  him 
elsewhere.  It  would  please  old  Rigou  devilish  well. 
Now  if  3'our  daughter,  Courtecuisse,  would  leave  Aux- 
erre  —  she 's  a  pretty  girl,  and  if  she  'd  take  to  pietj-, 
she  might  save  us  all.    Hey  !  ran  tan  plan  !  —  " 

"Why  don't  you  do  it?"  said  Godain  to  Catherine, 
in  a  low  voice  ;  ' '  there  'd  be  scuttles  full  of  money  to 
hush  up  the  talk ;  and  for  the  time  being  you  'd  be 
mistress  here  —  " 

"  Shall  we  glean,  or  shall  we  not  glean?  that's  the 
point,"  said  Bonnebault.  *'  I  don't  care  two  straws  for 
your  abbe,  not  I ;  I  belong  to  Conches,  where  we 
haven't  a  black-coat  to  poke  up  our  consciences." 

"  Look  here,"  said  Vaudoyer,  '^  we  had  better  go 
and  ask  Rigou,  who  knows  the  law,  whether  the  Shop- 
man can  forbid  gleaning,  and  he  '11  tell  us  if  we  *ve  got 
the  right  of  it.  If  the  Shopman  has  the  law  on  his 
side,  well,  then  we  must  do  as  the  old  one  says,  —  see 
about  taking  things  sideways." 

"Blood  will  be  spilt,"  said  Nicolas,  darkly,  as  he 
rose  after  drinking  a  whole  bottle  of  wine,  which  Cathe- 
rine drew  for  him  in  order  to  keep  him  silent.  "  If 
3'ou  'd  only  listen  to  me  you  'd  down  Michaud  ;  but  you 
are  miserable  weaklings,  —  nothing  but  poor  trash !  " 

"  I'm  not,"  said  Bonnebault.  "  If  you  are  all  safe 
friends  who '11  keep  j'our  tongues  between  3'our  teeth, 
I  '11  aim  at  the  Shopman  —  Hey  !  how  I  'd  like  to  put 
a  plum  through  his  bottle ;  would  n't  it  avenge  me  on 
those  cursed  officers?" 

"Tut!  tut!"  cried  Jean-Louis  Tonsard,  who  was 
supposed  to  be,  more  or  less,  Gaubertin's  son,  and  who 
had  just  entered  the  tavern.  This  fellow,  who  was 
courting  Rigou's  pretty  servant-girl,  had  succeeded  his 


i 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  259 

nominal  father  as  clipper  of  hedges  and  shrubberies 
and  other  Tonsardial  occupations.  Going  about  among 
the  well-to-do  houses,  he  talked  with  masters  and  ser- 
vants and  picked  up  ideas  which  made  him  the  man  of 
the  world  of  the  family,  the  shrewd  head.  We  shall 
presentl}'  see  that  in  making  love  to  Rigou's  servaut- 
girl,  Jean-Louis  deserved  his  reputation  for  shrewdness. 

*'  Well,  what  have  you  to  sa},  prophet?"  said  the 
innkeeper  to  his  son. 

'*  1  say  that  you  are  playing  into  the  hands  of  the 
rich  folk,"  replied  Jean-Louis.  "  Frighten  the  Aigues 
people  to  maintain  your  rights  if  you  choose ;  but  if 
you  drive  them  out  of  the  place  and  make  them  sell  the 
estate,  3'ou  are  doing  just  what  the  bourgeois  of  the 
valle}^  want,  and  it 's  against  your  own  interest.  If  you 
help  the  bourgeois  to  divide  the  great  estates  among 
them,  Where's  the  national  domain  to  be  bought  for 
nothing  at  the  next  Revolution?  Wait  till  then,  and 
3'ou'll  get  your  land  without  paying  for  it,  as  Rigou 
got  his  ;  whereas  if  you  go  and  thrust  this  estate  into 
the  jaws  of  the  rich  folk  of  the  valley,  the  rich  folk  will 
dribble  it  back  to  you  impoverished  and  at  twice  the 
price  the}^  paid  for  it.  You  are  working  for  their  in- 
terests, I  tell  you  ;  so  does  everybod}^  who  works  for 
Rigou,  —  look  at  Courtecuisse." 

The  policy  contained  in  this  allocution  was  too  dco[) 
for  the  drunken  heads  of  those  present,  who  were  all, 
except  Courtecuisse,  laying  by  their  mone}'^  to  bu}'  a 
slice  of  the  Aigues  cake.  So  the}'^  let  Jean-Louis  ha- 
rangue, and  continued,  as  in  the  Chamber  of  Deputies, 
their  private  confabs  with  one  another. 

''  Yes,  that 's  so  ;  you  '11  be  Rigou's  cats-paw  ! ''  cried 
Fourchon,  who  alone  understood  his  grandson. 


260  Sons  of  the  Soil 

Just  then  Langlume,  the  miller  of  Les  Aignes,  passed 
the  tavern.     Madame  Tonsard  hailed  him. 

"Is  it  true,"  she  said,  "  that  gleaning  is  to  be 
forbidden?" 

Langlume,  a  jovial  little  man,  white  with  flour  and 
dressed  in  grayish-white  clothes,  came  up  the  steps  and 
looked  in.  Instantly  all  the  peasants  became  as  sober 
as  judges. 

"Well,  my  children,  I'm  forced  to  answer  j-es,  and 
no.  None  but  the  poor  are  to  glean  ;  but  the  measures 
they  are  going  to  take  will  turn  out  to  your  advantage." 

"  How  so?"   asked  Godain. 

"  Wh}',  they  can  prevent  an}-  but  paupers  from  glean- 
ing here,"  said  the  miller,  winking  in  true  Norman 
fashion  ;  "  but  that  does  n't  prevent  you  from  gleaning 
elsewhere,  —  unless  all  the  maj'ors  do  as  the  Blangy 
mayor  is  doing." 

"  Then  it  is  true,"  said  Tonsard,  in  a  tlireatening 
voice. 

"  As  for  me,"  said  Bonnebault,  putting  his  foraging- 
cap  over  one  ear  and  making  his  hazel  stick  whiz  in  the 
air,  "  I'm  off  to  Conches  to  warn  the  friends." 

And  the  Lovelace  of  the  valley  departed,  whistling 
the  tune  of  the  martial  song,  — 

*'  You  who  know  the  hussars  of  the  Guard, 

Don't  you  know  the  trombone  of  the  regiment  ?  '* 

*' I  say,  Marie!  he's  going  a  queer  way  to  get  to 
Conches,  that  friend  of  3-ours,"  cried  old  Mother  Ton- 
sard to  her  granddaughter. 

"He's  after  Aglae !  "  said  Marie,  who  made  one 
bound  to  the  door.  "  I'll  have  to  thrash  her  once  for 
all,  that  baggage  I  "  she  cried,  viciously. 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  261 

**  Come,  Vaudoyer,"  said  Tonsard,  ''  go  and  see 
Rigou,  and  then  we  shall  know  what  to  do ;  he  's  our 
oracle,  and  his  spittle  don't  cost  anything." 

"  Another  folly ! "  said  Jean-Louis,  in  a  low  voice, 
"  Rigou  betrays  everybody;  Annette  tells  me  so;   she 
says  he  's  more  dangerous  when  he  listens  to  you  than 
■  other  folks  are  when  they  bluster." 

"  I  advise  30U  to  be  cautious,"  said  Langlume.  "  The 
general  has  gone  to  the  prefecture  about  your  misdeeds, 
and  Sibilet  tells  me  he  has  sworn  an  oath  to  go  to 
Paris  and  see  the  Chancellor  of  France  and  the  King 
himself,  and  the  whole  pack  of  them  if  necessary,  to 
get  the  better  of  his  peasantry." 

"  His  peasantr}^ !  "  shouted  every  one. 

"  Ha,  ha !  so  we  don't  belong  to  ourselves  any 
longer  ? " 

As  Tonsard  asked  the  question,  Vaudoyer  left  the 
house  to  see  Rigou. 

Langlume,  who  had  already  gone  out,  turned  on  the 
door-step,  and  answered  :  — 

"Crowd  of  do-nothings!  are  you  so  rich  that  you 
think  you  are  your  own  masters  ? " 

Though  said  with  a  laugh,  the  meaning  contained  in 
the  words  was  understood  b}^  all  present,  as  horses 
understand  the  cut  of  a  whip. 

"  Ran  tan  plan !  masters  indeed ! "  shouted  old 
Fourehon.  "I  say,  my  lad,"  he  added  to  Nicolas, 
•'  after  your  performance  of  this  morning  it's  not  my 
clarionet  that  you  '11  get  between  your  thumb  and  four 
fingers !  " 

"  Don't  plague  him,  or  he  '11  make  you  throw  up  3-our 
wine  by  a  punch  in  the  stomach,"  said  Catherine, 
roughly. 


262  Sons  of  the  Soil. 


XIII. 

A  TYPE  OF  THE  COUNTRY  USURER. 

Strategically,  Rigou's  position  at  Blangy  was  that 
of  a  picket  sentinel.  He  watched  Les  Aigues,  and 
watched  it  well.  The  police  have  no  spies  comparable 
to  those  that  serve  hatred. 

When  the  general  first  came  to  Les  Aignes  Rigou 
apparently  formed  some  plans  about  him  which  Mont- 
cornet's  marriage  with  a  Troisville  put  an  end  to ;  he 
seems  to  have  wished  to  patronize  the  new  land-owner. 
In  fact  his  intentions  were  so  patent  that  Gaubertin 
thought  best  to  let  him  into  the  secrets  of  the  coalition 
against  Les  Aigues.  Before  accepting  an^-  part  in  the 
affair,  Rigou  determined,  as  he  said,  to  put  the  general 
between  two  stools. 

One  day,  after  the  countess  was  fairl}'  installed,  a 
little  wicker  carriage  painted  green  entered  the  grand 
court3'ard  of  the  chateau.  The  mayor,  who  was  flanked 
by  his  mayoress,  got  out  and  came  round  to  the  portico 
on  the  garden  side.  As  he  did  so  Rigou  saw  Madame 
la  comtesse  at  a  window.  She,  however,  devoted  to 
the  bishop  and  to  religion  and  to  the  Abbe  Brossette, 
sent  word  b}^  Fran9ois  that  "  Madame  was  out." 

This  act  of  incivilitj^,  worth}-  of  a  woman  born  in 
Russia,  turned  the  face  of  the  ex-Benedictine  j'ellow. 
If  the  countess  had  seen  the  man  whom  the  abbe  told 
her  was  "  a  soul  in  hell  who  plunged  into  iniquity  as 


i 


Sons  of  the  Soil  263 

ito  a  bath  in  his  efforts  to  cool  himself/*  if  she  had 
Jen  his  face  then  she  might  have  refrained  from  ex- 
iting the  cold,  deliberate  hatred    felt   by  the  liberals 
;ainst  the  ro3'alists,  increased  as  it  was  in  country- 
"jplaces  b3'  the  jealousies   of  neighborhood,  where   the 
recollections   of  wounded  vanity  are   kept   constantly 
alive. 

A  few  details  about  this  man  and  his  morals  will  not 
only  throw  light  on  his  share  of  the  plot,  called  "the 
great  affair "  b}'  his  two  associates,  but  it  will  have 
the  merit  of  picturing  an  extremel}'  curious  type  of 
man,  —  one  of  those  rural  existences  which  are  peculiar 
to  France,  and  which  no  writer  has  hitherto  sought  to 
depict.  Nothing  about  this  man  is  without  signifi- 
cance, —  neither  his  house,  nor  his  manner  of  blowing 
the  fire,  nor  his  ways  of  eating ;  his  habits,  morals, 
and  opinions  will  vividly  illustrate  the  history  of  the 
valley.  This  renegade  serves  to  show  the  utility  of 
democracy ;  he  is  at  once  its  theory  and  its  practice, 
its  alpha  and  its  omega,  in  short,  its  summum. 

Perhaps  you  will  remember  certain  masters  of  avarice 
pictured  in  former  scenes  of  this  comedy  of  human  life  ; 
in  the  first  place  the  provincial  miser,  Pere  Grandet  of 
Saumur,  miserly  as  a  tiger  is  cruel ;  next  Gobseck,  the 
usurer,  that  Jesuit  of  gold,  delighting  onl}'  in  its  power, 
and  relishing  the  tears  of  the  unfortunate  because  gold 
produced  them ;  then  Baron  Nucingen,  lifting  base  and 
fraudulent  money  transactions  to  the  level  of  State 
policy.  Then,  too,  j'ou  may  remember  that  portrait  of 
domestic  parsimon}-,  old  Hochon  of  Issoudun,  and  that 
other  miser  in  behalf  of  family  interests,  little  la  Bau- 
draye  of  Sancerre.  Well,  human  emotions  —  above  all, 
those  of  avarice  —  take  on  so  many  and  diverse  shades 


264  Sons  of  the  Soil 

in  the  diverse  centres  of  social  existence  that  there  still 
remains  upon  the  stage  of  our  comedy  another  miser  to 
be  studied,  namel}',  Rigou,  — Rigou,  the  miser-egoist; 
full  of  tenderness  for  his  own  gratifications,  cold  and 
hard  to  others  ;  the  ecclesiastical  miser ;  the  monk  still 
a  monk  so  far  as  he  can  squeeze  the  juice  of  the  fruit 
called  good-living,  and  becoming  secular  only  to  put  a 
paw  upon  the  public  money.  In  the  first  place,  let  us 
explain  the  continual  pleasure  that  he  took  in  sleeping 
under  his  own  roof. 

Blangy  —  by  that  we  mean  the  sixtj*  houses  described 
by  Blondet  in  his  letter  to  Nathan  —  stands  on  a  rise  of 
land  to  the  left  of  the  Thune.  As  all  the  houses  are 
surrounded  by  gardens,  the  village  is  a  ver_y  pretty  one. 
Some  houses  are  built  on  the  banks  of  the  stream.  At 
the  upper  end  of  the  long  rise  stands  the  church,  for- 
merly flanked  by  a  parsonage,  its  apse  surrounded,  as 
in  many  other  villages,  by  a  graveyard.  The  sacrilegi- 
ous Rigou  had  bought  the  parsonage,  which  was  origi- 
nally built  by  an  excellent  Catholic,  Mademoiselle  Choin, 
on  land  which  she  had  bought  for  the  purpose.  A  ter- 
raced garden,  from  which  the  eye  looked  down  upon 
Blangy,  Cerneux,  and  Soulanges  standing  between  the 
two  great  seignorial  parks,  separated  the  late  parsonage 
from  the  church.  On  its  opposite  side  lay  a  meadow, 
bought  by  the  last  curate  of  the  parish  not  long  before 
his  death,  which  the  distrustful  Rigou  had  since  sur- 
rounded with  a  wall. 

The  ex-monk  and  ma3'or  having  refused  to  sell  back 
the  parsonage  for  its  original  purpose,  the  parish  was 
obliged  to  buy  a  house  belonging  to  a  peasant,  which 
adjoined  the  church.  It  was  necessary  to  spend  five 
thousand  francs  to  repair  and  enlarge  it  and  to  enclose 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  265 

it  in  a  little  garden,  one  wall  of  which  was  that  of  the 
sacristy,  so  that  communication  between  tlie  parsonage 
and  the  church  was  still  as  close  as  it  ever  was. 

These  two  houses,  built  on  a  line  with  the  church, 
and  seeming  to  belong  to  it  by  their  gardens,  faced  a 
piece  of  open  ground  planted  by  trees,  which  might  be 
called  the  square  of  Blang}-,  —  all  the  more  because  the 
count  had  latel}^  built,  directly  opposite  to  the  new  par- 
sonage, a  communal  building  intended  for  the  mayor's 
office,  the  home  of  the  field-keeper,  and  the  quarters  of 
that  school  of  the  Brothers  of  the  Christian  Doctrine,  for 
which  the  Abbe  Brossette  had  hitherto  begged  in  vain. 
Thus,  not  only  were  the  houses  of  the  ex-monk  and  the 
3-oung  priest  connected  and  ^et  separated  by  the  church, 
but  they  were  in  a  position  to  watch  each  other.  In- 
deed, the  whole  village  spied  upon  the  abbe.  The 
main  street,  which  began  at  the  Thune,  crept  tortuously 
up  the  hill  to  the  church.  Vineyards,  the  cottages  of 
the  peasantry-,  and  a  small  grove  crowned  the  heights. 

Rigou's  house,  the  handsomest  in  the  village,  was 
built  of  the  large  rubble-stone  peculiar  to  Burgund}^ 
imbedded  in  yellow  mortar  smoothed  b\^  the  trowel, 
which  produced  an  uneven  surface,  still  further  broken 
here  and  there  by  projecting  points  of  the  stone,  which 
was  mostly  black.  A  band  of  cement,  in  which  no 
stones  were  allowed  to  show,  surrounded  each  window 
with  a  sort  of  frame,  where  time  had  made  some  slight, 
capricious  cracks,  such  as  appear  on  plastered  ceilings. 
The  outer  blinds,  of  a  clumsy  pattern,  were  noticeable 
for  their  color,  which  was  dragon-green.  A  few  mosses 
grew  among  the  slates  of  the  roof  The  type  is  that  of 
Burgundian  homesteads  ;  the  traveller  will  see  thousands 
like  it  when  visiting  this  part  of  France. 


266  JSons  of  the  Soil. 

A  double  door  opened  upon  a  passage,  half-way  down 
which  was  the  well  of  the  staircase.  By  the  entrance 
was  the  door  of  a  large  room  with  three  windows  look- 
ing out  upon  the  square.  The  kitchen,  built  behind  and 
beneath  the  staircase,  was  lighted  from  the  courtyard, 
which  was  neatly  paved  with  cobble-stones  and  entered 
by  a  porte-cochere.  Such  was  the  ground-floor.  The 
first  floor  contained  three  bedrooms,  above  them  a  small 
attic  chamber. 

A  wood-shed,  a  coach-house,  and  a  stable  adjoined 
the  kitchen,  and  formed  two  sides  of  a  square  around 
the  courtyard.  Above  these  rather  flimsy  buildings 
■were  lofts  containing  hay  and  grain,  a  fruit-room,  and 
one  servant's-chamber. 

A  poultry-yard,  the  stable,  and  a  pigsty  faced  the 
house  across  the  courtyard. 

The  garden,  about  an  acre  in  size  and  enclosed  by 
walls,  was  a  true  priest's  garden  ;  that  is,  it  was  full  of 
wall-fruit  and  fruit-trees,  grape-arbors,  gravel-paths, 
closely  trimmed  box-trees,  and  square  vegetable-patches, 
made  rich  with  the  manure  from  the  stable. 

Above  the  house  was  another  enclosure,  planted  with 
trees,  surrounded  b}'  a  hedge,  and  large  enough  to  pas- 
ture two  cows,  who  lived  there  in  all  weathers. 

Within,  the  large  room,  panelled  in  wainscot,  was 
hung  with  old  tapestr}'.  The  walnut  furniture,  brown 
with  age  and  covered  with  stuflTs  embroidered  in  needle- 
work, was  in  keeping  with  the  wainscot  and  with  the 
ceiling,  which  was  also  panelled.  The  latter  had  three 
projecting  beams,  but  these  were  painted,  and  between 
them  the  space  was  plastered.  The  mantel,  also  in 
walnut,  surmounted  b}'  a  mirror  in  a  most  grotesque 
frame,  had  no  other  ornament  than  two  brass  eggs 


Sons  of  the  Soil  267 

standing  on  a  marble  base,  each  of  which  opened  in  the 
middle  ;  the  upper  half  when  turned  over  showed  a 
socket  for  a  candle.  These  candlesticks  for  two  lights, 
festooned  with  chains  (an  invention  of  tlie  reign  of 
Louis  XV.),  were  becoming  rare.  On  a  green  and  gold 
bracket  fastened  to  the  wall  opposite  to  the  window  was 
a  common  but  excellent  clock.  The  curtains,  which 
squeaked  upon  their  rods,  were  at  least  fifty  years 
old ;  their  material,  of  cotton  in  a  square  pattern  like 
that  of  mattresses,  alternatel}-  pink  and  white,  came 
from  the  Indies.  A  sideboard  and  dinner-table  com- 
pleted the  equipment  of  the  room,  which  was  kept  with 
extreme  nicety. 

At  the  corner  of  the  fireplace  was  an  immense  sofa, 
Rigou's  especial  seat.  In  the  angle,  above  a  little  bo7i' 
heur  dujour,  which  served  him  as  a  desk,  and  hanging 
to  a  common  screw,  was  a  pair  of  bellows,  the  origin  of 
Rigou's  fortune. 

From  this  succinct  description,  in  style  like  that  of 
an  auction  sale,  it  will  be  eas}'  to  imagine  that  the  bed- 
rooms of  Monsieur  and  Madame  Rigou  were  limited  to 
mere  necessaries  ;  yet  it  would  be  a  mistake  to  suppose 
that  such  parsimon}'  affected  the  essential  excellence  of 
those  necessaries.  For  instance,  the  most  fastidious  of 
women  would  have  slept  well  in  Rigou's  bed,  with  fine 
linen  sheets,  excellent  mattresses,  made  luxurious  by 
a  feather-bed  (doubtless  bought  for  some  abbe  by  a 
pious  female  parishioner)  and  protected  from  draughts 
by  thick  curtains.  All  the  rest  of  Rigou's  belongings 
were  made  comfortable  for  his  use,  as  we  shall  see. 

In  the  first  place,  he  had  reduced  his  wife,  who  could 
neither  read,  write,  nor  cipher,  to  absolute  obedience. 
After  having  ruled    her  deceased    master,   the    poor 


268  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

creature  was  now  the  servant  of  her  husband ;  she 
cooked  and  did  the  washing,  with  verj-  little  help  from 
a  pretty  girl  named  Annette,  who  was  nineteen  years 
old  and  as  much  a  slave  to  Rigou  as  her  mistress,  and 
whose  wages  were  thirty  francs  a  year. 

Tall,  thin,  and  withered,  Madame  Rigou,  a  woman 
with  a  yellow  face  red  about  the  cheek-bones,  her  head 
always  wrapped  in  a  colored  handkerchief,  and  wearing 
the  same  dress  all  the  year  round,  did  not  leave  the 
house  for  two  hours  in  a  month's  time,  but  kept  herself 
in  exercise  by  doing  the  hard  work  of  a  devoted  ser- 
vant. The  keenest  observer  could  not  have  found  a 
trace  of  the  fine  figure,  the  Rubens  coloring,  the  splen- 
did lines,  the  superb  teeth,  the  virginal  eyes  which  first 
drew  the  attention  of  the  Abb6  Niseron  to  the  j'oung 
girl.  The  birth  of  her  only  daughter,  Madame  Soudry, 
Jr.,  had  blighted  her  complexion,  decayed  her  teeth, 
dimmed  her  ej^es,  and  even  caused  the  dropping  of 
their  lashes.  It  almost  seemed  as  if  the  finger  of  God 
had  fallen  upon  the  wife  of  the  priest.  Like  all  well- 
to-do  countrj'  house-wives,  she  liked  to  see  her  closets 
full  of  silk  gowns,  made  and  unmade,  and  jewels  and 
laces  which  did  her  no  good  and  onl3'  excited  the  sin  of 
env}'  and  a  desire  for  her  death  in  the  minds  of  all  the 
young  women  who  served  Rigou.  She  was  one  of 
those  beings,  half-woman,  half-animal,  who  are  born  to 
live  by  instinct.  This  ex-beautiful  Arsene  was  disin- 
terested ;  and  the  bequest  left  to  her  b}^  the  late  Abbe 
Niseron  would  be  inexplicable  were  it  not  for  the  curi- 
ous circumstance  which  prompted  it,  and  which  we  give 
here  for  the  edification  of  the  vast  tribe  of  expectant 
heirs. 

Madame   Niseron,    the   wife   of  the   old   republican 


Sons  of  the  SoiL  269 

ttton,  always  paid  the  greatest  attention  to  her  hus- 
ind's  uncle,  the  pi'iest  of  Blangy ;  the  forty  or  lift}' 
lousand  francs  soon  to  be  inherited  from  the  old  man 
of  sevent}^  would  put  the  family  of  his  only  nephew 
into  a  condition  of  afHuence  which  she  impatiently 
awaited,  for  besides  her  only  son  (the  father  of  La 
lechina)  Madame  Niseron  had  a  charming  little 
LUghter,  lively  and  innocent,  — one  of  those  beings  that 
ira  perfected  only  because  they  are  to  die,  which  she 
at  the  age  of  fourteen  from  *'  pale  color,"  the  popu- 
far  name  for  clitorosis  among  the  peasantry'.  The 
darling  of  the  parsonage,  where  the  child  fluttered 
about  her  great  uncle  the  abbe  as  she  did  in  her  home, 
bringing  clouds  and  sunshine  with  her,  she  grew  to 
love  Mademoiselle  Arsene,  the  pretty  servant  whom 
the  old  abbe  engaged  in  1789.  Arsene  was  the  niece 
of  his  housekeeper,  whose  place  the  girl  took  by  re- 
quest of  the  latter  on  her  deathbed. 

In  1791,  just  about  the  time  that  the  Abbe  Niseron 
offered  his  house  as  an  asylum  to  Rigou  and  his 
brother  Jean,  the  little  girl  played  one  of  her  mischiev- 
ous but  innocent  tricks.  She  was  playing  with  Arsene 
and  some  other  children  at  a  game  which  consists  in  hid- 
ing an  object  which  the  rest  seek,  and  crying  out,  '*  You 
burn  !  "  or  *'  You  freeze  !  "  according  as  the  searchers 
approach  or  leave  the  hidden  arlicle.  Little  Genevieve 
took  it  into  her  head  to  hide  the  bellows  in  Arsene's 
bed.  The  bellows  could  not  be  found,  and  the  game 
came  to  an  end  ;  Genevieve  was  taken  home  by  her 
mother  and  forgot  to  put  the  bellows  back  on  the  nail. 
Arsene  and  her  aunt  searched  more  than  a  week  for 
them  ;  then  tliey  stopped  searching  and  managed  to 
do  without  them,  the  old  abb4  blowing  his  fire  with 


270  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

an  air-cane  made  in  the  da3's  when  air-canes  were 
the  fashion,  —  a  fashion  which  was  no  doubt  intro- 
duced b}'  some  courtier  of  the  reign  of  Henri  III.  At 
last,  about  a  month  before  her  death,  the  house- 
keeper, after  a  dinner  at  which  the  Abbe  Mouchon,  the 
Niseron  famil}^  and  the  curate  of  Soulanges  were 
present,  returned  to  her  jeremiades  about  the  loss  of 
the  bellows. 

"Why!  they've  been  these  two  weeks  in  Arsene's 
bed  !  "  cried  the  little  one,  with  a  peal  of  laughter. 
"  Great  laz}^  thing !  if  she  had  taken  the  trouble  to 
make  her  bed  she  would  have  found  them." 

As  it  was  1791  everybody  laughed  ;  but  a  dead  silence 
succeeded  the  laugh. 

"  There  is  nothing  laughable  in  that,"  said  the  house- 
keeper; "since  I  have  been  ill  Arsene  sleeps  in  my 
room." 

In  spite  of  this  explanation  the  Abbe  Niseron  looked 
thunderbolts  at  Madame  Niseron  and  his  nephew, 
thinking  tlie}^  were  plotting  miscliief  against  him.  The 
housekeeper  died.  Rigou  contrived  to  work  up  the 
abbe's  resentment  to  such  a  pitch  that  he  made  a  will 
disinheriting  Jean-Francois  Niseron  in  favor  of  Arsene 
Pichard. 

In  1823  Eigou,  perhaps  out  of  a  sense  of  gratitude, 
still  blew  the  fire  with  an  air-cane,  and  left  the  bellows 
hanging  to  the  screw. 

Madame  Niseron,  idolizing  her  daughter,  did  not 
long  survive  her.  Mother  and  child  died  in  1704. 
The  old  abb^,  too,  was  dead,  and  citizen  Rigou  took 
charge  of  Arsene's  affairs  b3'  marrying  her.  A  former 
convert  in  the  monaster}-,  attached  to  Rigou  as  a  dog 
is  to  his  master,  became  the  groom,  gardener,  herds- 


Sons  of  the  Soil  271 

man,  valet,  and  steward  of  the  sensual  Harpagon. 
Arsene  Rigou,  the  daughter,  married  in  1821  without 
dowry  to  the  prosecuting-attorne}',  inherited  something 
of  her  mother's  rather  vulgar  beautj',  together  with  the 
crafty  mind  of  her  father. 

Now  about  sixty-seven  years  of  age,  Rigou  had 
never  been  ill  in  his  life,  and  nothing  seemed  able  to 
lessen  his  aggressively  good  health.  Tall,  lean,  with 
brown  circles  round  his  eyes,  the  lids  of  which  were 
nearly  black,  any  one  who  saw  him  of  a  morning,  when 
as  he  dressed  he  exposed  the  wrinkled,  red,  and  granu- 
lated skin  of  his  neck,  would  have  compared  him  to  a 
condor,  —  all  the  more  because  his  long  nose,  sharp  at 
the  tip,  increased  the  likeness  by  its  sanguineous  color. 
His  head,  partly  bald,  would  have  frightened  phren- 
ologists by  the  shape  of  its  skull,  which  was  like  an 
ass's  backbone,  an  indication  of  despotic  will.  His 
grayish  eyes,  half-covered  by  filmy,  red-veined  lids, 
were  predestined  to  aid  hypocrisy.  Two  scanty  locks 
of  hair  of  an  undecided  color  overhung  the  large  ears, 
which  were  long  and  without  rim,  a  sure  sign  of  cruelty, 
but  cruelty  of  the  moral  nature  only,  unless  where  it 
means  actual  insanity.  The  mouth,  very  broad,  with 
thin  lips,  indicated  a  sturdy  eater  and  a  determined 
drinker  by  the  drop  of  its  corners,  which  turned  down- 
ward like  two  commas,  from  which  drooled  grav}'  when 
he  ate  and  saliva  when  he  talked.  Heliogabalus  must 
have  been  like  this. 

His  dress,  which  never  varied,  consisted  of  a  long 
blue  surtout  with  a  military  collar,  a  black  cravat,  with 
waistcoat  and  trousers  of  black  cloth.  His  shoes,  very 
thick  soled,  had  iron  nails  outside,  and  inside  woollen 
linings  knit  by  his  wife  in  the  winter  evenings.     An- 


i 


272  Sons  of  the  Soil  ^ 

nette  and  her  mistress  also  knit  the  master's  stockings. 
Rigoii's  name  was  Gregoire. 

Though  this  sketch  gives  some  idea  of  the  man's 
character,  no  one  can  imagine  the  point  to  which,  in 
his  private  and  unthwarted  life,  the  ex-Benedictine  had 
pushed  the  science  of  selfishness,  good  living,  and  sen- 
suality. In  the  first  place,  he  dined  alone,  waited  upon 
by  his  wife  and  Annette,  who  themselves  dined  with 
Jean  in  the  kitchen,  while  the  master  digested  his  meal 
and  disposed  of  his  wine  as  he  read  "  the  news.'* 

In  the  countr}^  the  special  names  of  journals  are 
never  mentioned ;  they  are  all  called  by  the  general 
name  of  "  the  news." 

Rigou's  dinner,  like  his  breakfast  and  supper,  was 
always  of  choice  delicacies,  cooked  with  the  art  which 
distinguishes  a  priest's  housekeeper  from  all  other  cooks. 
Madame  Rigou  made  the  butter  herself  twice  a  week. 
Cream  was  a  concomitant  of  many  sauces.  The  vege- 
tables came  at  a  jump,  as  it  were,  from  their  frames  to 
the  saucepan.  Parisians,  who  are  accustomed  to  eat  the 
fruits  of  the  earth  after  the}'  have  had  a  second  ripen- 
ing in  the  sun  of  a  city,  infected  by  the  air  of  the  streets, 
fermenting  in  close  shops,  and  watered  from  time  to 
time  by  the  market-women  to  give  them  a  deceitful 
freshness,  have  little  idea  of  the  exquisite  flavors  of 
really  fresh  produce,  to  which  nature  has  lent  fugitive 
but  powerful  charms  when  eaten  as  it  were  alive. 

The  butcher  of  Soulanges  brought  his  best  meat 
under  fear  of  losing  Rigou's  custom.  The  poultry, 
raised  on  the  premises,  was  of  the  finest  quality. 

This  system  of  secret  pampering  embraced  everything 
in  which  Rigou  was  personally  concerned.  Though  the 
slippers  of  the  knowing  Thelemist  were  of  stout  leather 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  273 

the}^  were  lined  with  lamb's  wool.  Though  his  coat 
was  of  rough  cloth  it  did  not  touch  his  skin,  for  his 
shirt,  washed  and  ironed  at  home,  was  of  the  finest 
Frisian  linen.  His  wife,  Annette,  and  Jean  drank  the 
common  wine  of  the  country,  the  wine  he  reserved  from 
his  own  vineyards  ;  but  in  his  private  cellar,  as  well 
stocked  as  the  cellars  of  Belgium,  the  finest  vintages  of 
Burgundy  rubbed  sides  with  those  of  Bordeaux,  Cham- 
pagne, Roussillon,  not  to  speak  of  Spanish  and  Rhine 
wines,  all  bought  ten  years  in  advance  of  use  and  bot- 
tled by  Brother  Jean.  The  liqueurs  in  that  cellar  were 
those  of  the  Isles,  and  came  originally  from  Madame 
Amphoux.  Rigou  had  laid  in  a  supply  to  last  him  the 
rest  of  his  days,  at  the  national  sale  of  a  chateau  in 
Burgund}'. 

The  ex-monk  ate  and  drank  like  Louis  XIV.  (one 
of  the  greatest  consumers  of  food  and  drink  ever 
known),  which  reveals  the  costs  of  a  life  that  was 
more  than  voluptuous.  Careful  and  very  shrewd  in 
managing  his  secret  prodigalities,  he  disputed  all  pur- 
chases as  only  churchmen  can  dispute.  Instead  of 
taking  infinite  precautions  against  being  cheated,  the 
sly  monk  kept  patterns  and  samples,  had  the  agree- 
ments reduced  to  writing,  and  warned  those  who  for- 
warded his  wines  or  his  provisions  that  if  they  fell 
short  of  the  mark  in  any  way  he  should  refuse  to 
accept  their  consignments. 

Jean,  who  had  charge  of  the  fruit-room,  was  trained 

to  keep  fresh  tlie  finest  fruits  grown  in  the  department ; 

so  that  Rigou  ate   pears   and   apples  and   sometimes 

grapes,  at  Piaster. 

jS  No  prophet  regarded  as  a  God  was  ever  more  blindl}'' 

^■>eyed  than  was  Rigou  in  his  own  home.    A  mere  mo- 

I 


274  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

tion  of  his  black  ej^elashos  could  plunge  his  wife,  An- 
nette, and  Jean  into  the  deepest  anxiety.  He  held  his 
three  slaves  by  the  multiplicity  of  their  many  duties, 
which  were  like  a  chain  in  his  hands.  These  poor 
creatures  were  under  the  perpetual  3'oke  of  some  or- 
dered duty,  with  an  eye  always  on  them  ;  but  they  had 
come  to  take  a  sort  of  pleasure  in  accomplishing  these 
tasks,  and  did  not  suffer  under  them.  All  three  had 
the  comfort  and  well-being  of  that  one  man  before  their 
minds  as  the  sole  end  and  object  of  all  their  thoughts. 

Annette  was  (since  1795)  the  tenth  pretty  girl  in 
Rigou's  service,  and  he  expected  to  go  down  to  his 
grave  with  relays  of  such  servants.  Brought  to  him  at 
sixteen,  she  would  be  sent  away  at  nineteen.  All  these 
girls,  carefully  chosen  at  Auxerre,  Clamecy,  or  in  the 
Morvan,  were  enticed  by  the  promise  of  future  pros- 
perity ;  but  Madame  Rigou  persisted  in  living.  So  at 
the  end  of  everj^  three  years  some  quarrel,  usually 
brought  about  by  the  insolence  of  the  servant  to  the 
poor  mistress,  caused  their  dismissal. 

Annette,  who  was  a  picture  of  delicate  beauty,  ingen- 
uous and  sparkling,  deserved  to  be  a  duchess.  Rigou 
knew  nothing  of  the  love  affair  between  her  and  Jean- 
Louis  Tonsard,  which  proves  that  he  had  let  himself  be 
fooled  by  the  girl,  —  the  only  one  of  his  many  servants 
whose  ambition  had  taught  her  to  flatter  the  lynx  as  the 
only  wa}^  to  blind  him. 

This  uncrowned  Louis  XV.  did  not  keep  himself 
wholly  to  his  pretty  Annette.  Being  the  mortgagee  of 
lands  bought  b}^  peasants  who  were  unable  to  pay  for 
them,  he  kept  a  harem  in  the  valley,  from  Soulanges  to 
five  miles  beyond  Conches  on  the  road  to  La  Brie, 
without  making  other  paj'ments   than  *' extension  of 


Sons  of  the  SoiL  275 

time,"  for  those  fugitive  pleasures  which  eat  into  the 
fortunes  of  so  man}^  old  men. 

Tliis  luxurious  life,  a  life  like  that  of  Bouret,  cost 
Rigou  almost  nothing.  Thanks  to  his  white  slaves,  he 
could  cut  and  mow  down  and  gather  in  his  wood,  ha}', 
and  grain.  To  the  peasant  manual  labor  is  a  small 
matter,  especially  if  it  serves  to  postpone  the  pa3'ment 
of  interest  due.  And  so  Rigou,  while  requiring  little 
premiums  on  each  month's  delay,  squeezed  a  great  deal 
of  manual  labor  out  of  his  debtors,  —  positive  drudgery, 
to  which  the}^  submitted  thinking  they  gave  little  be- 
cause nothing  left  their  pockets.  Rigou  sometimes 
obtained  in  this  way  more  than  the  principal  of  a  debt. 

Deep  as  a  monk,  silent  as  a  Benedictine  in  the  throes 
of  writing  history,  sly  as  a  priest,  deceitful  as  all  misers, 
carefully  keeping  within  the  limits  of  the  law,  the  man 
might  have  been  Tiberius  in  Rome,  Richelieu  under 
Louis  XIII.,  or  Fouche,  had  the  ambition  seized  him 
to  go  to  the  Convention ;  but,  Instead  of  all  that,  Rigou 
had  the  common  sense  to  remain  a  Lucullus  without 
ostentation,  in  other  words,  a  parsimonious  voluptuary. 
To  occupy  his  mind  he  indulged  a  hatred  manufactured 
out  of  the  whole  cloth.  He  harassed  the  Comte  de 
Montcornet.  He  worked  the  peasants  like  puppets  by 
hidden  wires,  the  handling  of  which  amused  him  as 
though  it  were  a  game  of  chess  where  the  pawns  were 
alive,  the  knights  caracoled,  the  bishops,  like  Fourchon, 
gabbled,  the  feudal  castles  shone  in  the  sun,  and  the 
queen  maliciousl}'  checkmated  the  king.  Every  day, 
when  he  got  out  of  bed  and  saw  from  his  window  the 
proud  towers  of  Les  Aigues,  the  chimneys  of  the  pavil- 
ions, and  the  noble  gates,  he  said  to  himself:  "They 
shall  fall!     I'll  dry  up  the  brooks,  I'll  chop  down  the 


I 


276  Sons  of  the  Soil 

woods."  But  he  had  two  victims  in  mind,  a  chief  one 
and  a  lesser  one.  Though  he  meditated  the  dismem- 
berment of  the  chateau,  the  apostate  also  intended  to 
make  an  end  of  the  Abbe  Brossette  by  pin-pricks. 

To  complete  the  portrait  of  the  ex-priest  it  will  suffice 
to  add  that  he  went  to  mass  regretting  that  his  wife 
still  lived,  and  expressed  the  desire  to  be  reconciled 
with  the  Church  as  soon  as  he  became  a  widower.  He 
bowed  deferentially  to  the  Abbe  Brossette  whenever 
he  met  him,  and  spoke  to  him  courteousl}^  and  without 
heat.  As  a  general  thing  all  men  who  belong  to  the 
Church,  or  who  have  come  out  of  it,  have  the  patience 
of  insects ;  they  owe  this  to  the  obligation  the}"  have 
been  under,  ecclesiasticall}',  to  preserve  decorum,  —  a 
training  which  has  been  lacking  for  the  last  twenty 
years  to  the  vast  majority  of  the  French  nation,  even 
those  who  think  themselves  well-bred.  All  the  monks 
which  the  Revolution  brought  out  of  their  monasteries 
and  forced  into  business,  public  or  private,  showed  in 
their  coldness  and  reserve  the  great  advantage  which 
ecclesiastical  discipline  gives  to  the  sons  of  the  Church, 
even  those  who  desert  her. 

Gaubertin  had  understood  Rigou  from  the  da^'s  when 
the  Abbe  Niseron  made  his  will  and  the  ex-monk  mar- 
ried the  heiress ;  he  fathomed  the  craft  hidden  behind 
the  jaundiced  face  of  that  accomplished  hypocrite  ;  and 
he  made  himself  the  man's  fellow-worshipper  before  the 
altar  of  the  Golden  Calf.  When  the  banking-house  of 
Leclercq  was  first  started  he  advised  Rigou  to  put  fifty 
thousand  francs  into  it,  guaranteeing  their  security 
himself  Rigou  was  all  the  more  desirable  as  an  in- 
vestor, or  sleeping  partner,  because  he  drew  no  interest 
but  allowed  his  capital  to  accumulate.     At  the  period 


jSons  of  the  Soil  277 

of  which  we  write  it  amounted  to  over  a  hundred  thou- 
sand francs,  although  in  1816  he  had  taken  out  one 
hundred  and  eighty  thousand  for  investment  in  the 
Public  Funds,  from  which  he  derived  an  income  of 
seventeen  thousand  francs.  Lupin  the  notary  had  cog- 
nizance of  at  least  one  hundred  thousand  francs  which 
Rigou  had  lent  on  small  mortgages  upon  good  estates. 
Ostensibly,  Rigou  derived  about  fourteen  thousand  francs 
a  year  from  landed  property  actually  owned  by  him. 
But  as  to  his  amassed  hoard,  it  was  represented  by  an 
X  which  no  rule  of  equations  could  evolve,  just  as  the 
devil  alone  knew  the  secret  schemes  he  plotted  with 
Langlume. 

This  dangerous  usurer,  who  proposed  to  live  a  score 
of  years  longer,  had  established  fixed  rules  to  work 
upon.  He  lent  nothing  to  a  peasant  who  bought  less 
than  seven  acres,  and  who  could  not  pay  one-half  of  the 
purchase-mone}^  down.  Rigou  well  understood  the  de- 
fects of  the  law  of  dispossession  when  applied  to  small 
holdings,  and  the  danger  both  to  the  Public  Treasury 
and  to  land-owners  of  the  minute  parcelling  out  of  the 
soil.  How  can  3'ou  sue  a  peasant  for  the  value  of  one 
row  of  vines  when  he  owns  only  five?  The  bird's-eye 
view  of  self-interest  is  always  twenty-five  years  ahead 
of  the  perceptions  of  a  legislative  bodj'.  What  a  lesson 
for  a  nation !  Law  will  ever  emanate  from  one  brain, 
that  of  a  man  of  genius,  and  not  from  the  nine  hundred 
legislative  heads,  which,  great  as  they  may  be  in  them- 
selves, are  belittled  and  lost  in  a  crowd.  Rigou's  law 
contains  the  essential  element  which  has  yet  to  be  found 
and  mtroduced  into  public  law  to  put  an  end  to  the 
absurd  spectacle  of  landed  property  reduced  to  halves, 
quarters,    tenths,  hundredths,  —  as   in    the  district  of 


278  Sons  of  the  Soil 

Argenteuil,  where  there  are  thirty  thousand  plots  of 
land. 

Such  operations  as  those  Rigou  was  concerned  in 
require  extensive  collusion,  like  those  we  have  seen 
existing  in  this  arrondissement.  Lupin,  the  notary, 
whom  Rigou  employed  to  draw  at  least  one  third  of  the 
deeds  annually  entrusted  to  his  notarial  oflice,  was  de- 
voted to  him.  This  shark  could  thus  include  ni  the 
mortgage  note  (signed  always  in  presence  of  the  wife, 
when  the  borrower  was  married)  the  amount  of  the 
illegal  interest.  The  peasant,  delighted  to  feel  he  had 
to  pay  only  his  five  per  cent  interest  annually,  always 
imagined  he  should  be  able  to  meet  the  payment  by 
working  doubly  hard  or  by  improving  the  land  and 
getting  double  returns  upon  it. 

Hence  the  deceitful  hopes  excited  by  what  imbecile 
economists  call  "small  farming,"  —  a  political  blunder 
to  which  we  owe  such  mistakes  as  sending  French 
money  to  Germany  to  buy  horses  which  our  own  land 
has  ceased  to  breed ;  a  blunder  which  before  long  will 
reduce  the  raising  of  cattle  until  meat  will  be  unattain- 
able not  only  b}^  the  people,  but  by  the  lower  middle 
classes  (see  "  Le  Cure  de  Village.") 

So,  not  a  little  sweat  bedewed  men's  brows  between 
Conches  and  Ville-aux-Fayes  to  Rigou's  profit,  all  be- 
ing willing  to  give  it ;  whereas  the  labor  dearly  paid 
for  b}^  the  general,  the  only  man  who  did  spend  money 
in  the  district,  brought  him  curses  and  hatred,  which 
were  showered  upon  him  simply  because  he  was  rich. 
How  could  such  facts  be  understood  unless  we  had  pre- 
viously taken  that  rapid  glance  at  the  Mediocrac}'. 
Fourchon  was  right ;  the  middle  classes  now  held  the 
position  of  the  former  lords.     The  small  land-owners, 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  279 

of  whom  Courtecuisse  is  a  t3'pe,  were  tenants  in  mort- 
main of  a  Tiberius  in  the  valle}^  of  the  Avonne,  just 
as,  in  Paris,  traders  without  money  are  the  peasantry 
of  the  banking  system. 

Soudry  followed  Rigou's  example  from  Soulanges  to 
a  distance  of  fifteen  miles  beyond  Ville-aux-Fayes. 
These  two  usurers  shared  the  district  between  them. 

Gaubertin,  whose  rapacity  was  in  a  higher  sphere, 
not  only  did  not  compete  against  that  of  his  associates, 
but  he  prevented  all  other  capital  in  Ville-aux-Fayes 
from  being  employed  in  the  same  fruitful  manner.  It 
is  easy  to  imagine  what  immense  influence  this  trium- 
virate —  Rigou,  Soudry,  and  Gaubertin  —  wielded  in 
election  periods  over  electors  whose  fortunes  depended 
on  their  good- will. 

Hate,  intelligence,  and  means  at  command,  such  were 
the  three  sides  of  the  terrible  triangle  which  describes 
the  general's  closest  enemy,  the  spy  ever  watching  Les 
Aigues,  —  a  shark  having  constant  dealings  with  sixty 
to  eighty  small  land-owners,  relations  or  connections  of 
the  peasantry,  who  feared  him  as  such  men  always  fear 
their  creditor. 

Rigou  was  in  his  way  another  Tonsard.  The  one 
throve  on  thefts  from  nature,  the  other  waxed  fat  on 
legal  plunder.  Both  liked  to  live  well.  It  was  the 
same  nature  in  two  species,  —  the  one  natural,  the  other 
whetted  by  his  training  in  a  cloister. 

It  was  about  four  o'clock  when  Vaudoyer  left  the 
tavern  of  the  Grand-I-Vert  to  consult  the  former  mayor. 
Rigou  was  at  dinner.     Finding  the  front  door  locked, 

I  Vaudoyer  looked  above  the  window  blinds  and  called 
out :  — 
^'  Monsieur  Rigou,  it  is  I,  -^  Vaudo3'er." 
i 


280  Sons  of  the  Soil 

Jean  came  round  from  the  porte-cochere  and  said  to 
Vaudoyer :  — 

"  Come  into  the  garden  ;  Monsieur  has  company." 

The  compan}'  was  Sibilet,  who,  under  pretext  of  dis- 
cussing the  verdict  Brunet  had  just  handed  in,  was  talk- 
ing to  Rigou  of  quite  other  matters.  He  had  found  the 
usurer  finishing  his  dessert.  On  a  square  dinner-table 
covered  with  a  dazzling  white  cloth  —  for,  regardless  of 
his  wife  and  Annette  who  did  the  washing,  Rigou  ex- 
acted clean  table-linen  every  da}^  —  the  steward  noted 
strawberries,  apricots,  peaches,  figs,  and  almonds,  all 
the  fruits  of  the  season  in  profusion,  served  in  white 
porcelain  dishes  on  vine-leaves  as  daintil}*  as  at  Les 
Aigues. 

Seeing  Sibilet,  Rigou  told  him  to  run  the  bolts  of 
the  inside  double-doors,  which  were  added  to  the  other 
doors  as  much  to  stifle  sounds  as  to  keep  out  the  cold 
air,  and  asked  him  what  pressing  business  brought  him 
there  in  broad  daylight  when  it  was  so  much  safer  to 
confer  together  at  night. 

"The  Shopman  talks  of  going  to  Paris  to  see  the 
Keeper  of  the  Seals  ;  he  is  capable  of  doing  you  a  great 
deal  of  harm ;  he  ma}^  ask  for  the  dismissal  of  your 
son-in-law,  and  the  removal  of  the  judges  at  Ville-aux- 
Fayes,  especially  after  reading  the  verdict  just  rendered 
in  your  favor.  He  has  turned  at  bay ;  he  is  shrewd, 
and  he  has  an  adviser  in  that  abbe,  who  is  quite  able 
to  tilt  with  you  and  Gaubertin.  Priests  are  powerful. 
IMonseigneur  the  bishop  thinks  a  great  deal  of  the  Abbe 
Brossette.  Madame  la  comtesse  talks  of  going  herself 
to  her  cousin  the  prefect,  the  Comte  de  Casteran, 
about  Nicolas.     Michaud  begins  to  see  into  our  game." 

"  You  are  frightened,"  said  Rigou,  softl}',  casting  a 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  281 

look  on  Sibilet  which  suspicion  made  less  impassive 
than  usual,  and  which  was  therefore  terrific.  "  You 
are  debating  whether  it  would  not  be  better  on  the 
wnole  to  side  with  the  Comte  de  Montcornet.'* 

"•'  I  don't  see  where  I  am  to  get  the  four  thousand 
francs  I  save  honestl}'  and  invest  every  year,  after  you 
have  cut  up  and  sold  Les  Aigues,"  said  Sibilet,  shortly. 
'*  Monsieur  Gaubertin  has  made  me  many  fine 
promises ;  but  the  crisis  is  coming  on ;  there  will  be 
fighting,  surely.  Promising  before  victory  and  keeping 
a  promise  after  it  are  two  very  different  things." 

''  I  will  talk  to  him  about  it,"  replied  Rigou,  imper- 
turbably.  "  Meantime  this  is  what  I  should  say  to  you 
if  I  were  in  his  place  :  '  For  the  last  five  years  you  have 
taken  Monsieur  Rigou  four  thousand  francs  a  year,  and 
that  worthy  man  gives  you  seven  and  a  half  per  cent ; 
which  makes  your  property  in  his  hands  at  this  moment 
over  twent3'-seven  thousand  francs,  as  3'ou  have  not 
drawn  the  interest.  But  there  exists  a  private  signed 
agreement  between  30U  and  Rigou,  and  the  Shopman 
will  dismiss  his  steward  whenever  the  Abbe  Brossette 
lays  that  document  before  his  eyes  ;  the  abbe  will  be  able 
to  do  so  after  receiving  an  anonymous  letter  which 
will  inform  him  of  your  double-dealing.  You  would 
therefore  do  better  for  yourself  b}^  keeping  well  with 
us  instead  of  clamoring  for  your  pay  in  advance,  —  all 
the  more  because  Monsieur  Rigou,  who  is  not  legally 
bound  to  give  3'OU  seven  and  a  half  per  cent  and  the 
interest  on  3'our  interest,  will  make  you  in  court  a  legul 
tender  of  3'our  twent3'  thousand  francs,  and  3'OU  will  not 
be  able  to  touch  that  money  until  your  suit,  prolonged 
b3'  legal  trickery,  shall  be  decided  by  the  court  at  Ville- 
aux-Fayes.     But  if  you  act  wisely  you  will  find  that 


282  Sons  of  the  Soil 

when  Monsieur  Rigou  gets  possession  of  jour  pavilion 
at  Les  Aigues,  you  will  have  veiy  nearly  thirty  thousand 
francs  in  his  hands  and  thirty  thousand  more  which 
the  said  Rigou  may  entrust  to  you,  —  which  will  be  all 
the  more  advantageous  to  3'ou  then  because  the  peas- 
antry will  have  flung  them  themselves  upon  the  estate 
of  Les  Aigues,  divided  into  small  lots  like  the  poverty 
of  the  world.'  That 's  what  Monsieur  Gaubertin  might 
say  to  you.  As  for  me,  I  have  nothing  to  say,  for  it  is 
none  of  my  business.  Gaubertin  and  I  have  our  own 
quarrel  with  that  son  of  the  people  w^ho  is  ashamed  of 
his  own  father,  and  we  follow  our  own  course.  If  my 
friend  Gaubertin  feels  the  need  of  using  you,  I  don't ; 
I  need  no  one,  for  everybody  is  at  my  command.  As 
to  the  Keeper  of  the  Seals,  that  functionary  is  often 
changed;  whereas  we — we  are  always  here,  and  can 
bide  our  time." 

"Well,  I've  warned  3^ou,"  returned  Sibilet,  feeling 
like  a  donkey  under  a  pack-saddle. 

*'  Warned  me  of  what?  "  said  Rigou,  artfully. 

''  Of  what  the  Shopman  is  going  to  do,"  answered 
the  steward,  humblj*.  "He  started  for  the  Prefecture 
in  a  rage." 

"Let  him  go!  If  the  Montcornets  and  their  kind 
did  n't  use  wheels,  what  would  become  of  the  carriage- 
makers  ?  " 

' '  I  shall  bring  you  three  thousand  francs  to-night," 
said  Sibilet,  "  but  you  ought  to  make  over  some  of 
your  maturing  mortgages  to  me,  —  sa}',  one  or  two  that 
would  secure  to  me  good  lots  of  land.'* 

"  Well,  there 's  that  of  Courtecuisse.  I  myself  want 
to  be  eas}'  on  him  because  he  is  the  best  shot  in  the 
canton ;  but  if  I  make  over  his  mortgage  to  you,  you 


Sons  of  the  Soil    '  283 

will  seem  to  be  harassing  him  on  the  Shopman's  ac- 
count, and  that  will  be  killing  two  birds  with  one  stone  ; 
wlien  Courtecuisse  finds  himself  a  beggar,  like  Fourchon, 
he  '11  be  capable  of  anything.  Courtecuisse  has  ruined 
himself  on  the  Bachelerie ;  he  has  cultivated  all  the 
land,  and  trained  fruit  on  the  walls.  The  little  property 
is  now  worth  four  thousand  francs,  and  the  count  will 
gladly  pay  you  that  to  get  possession  of  the  three  acres 
that  jut  right  into  his  land.  If  Courtecuisse  were  not 
such  an  idle  hound  he  could  have  paid  his  interest  with 
the  game  he  might  have  killed  there." 

"Well,  transfer  the  mortgage  to  me,  and  1*11  make 
my  butter  out  of  it ;  the  count  shall  bu}'  the  three  acres, 
and  I  shall  get  the  house  and  garden  for  nothing." 

*'  What  are  3'ou  going  to  give  me  out  of  it?" 

"  Good  heavens  !  3'ou  'd  milk  an  ox  !  '*  exclaimed 
Sibilet,  —  *'  when  I  have  just  done  3'ou  such  a  service, 
too.  I  have  at  last  got  the  Shopman  to  enforce  the 
laws  about  gleaning  —  " 

''Have  you,  my  dear  fellow?"  said  Rigou,  who  a 
few  days  earlier  had  suggested  this  means  of  exasperat- 
ing the  i)easantry  to  Sibilet,  telling  him  to  advise  the 
goneral  to  try  it.  "Then  we've  got  him;  he's  lost! 
But  it  is  n't  enough  to  hold  him  with  one  string ;  we 
must  wind  it  round  and  round  him  like  a  roll  of  tobacco. 
Slip  the  bolts  of  the  door,  my  lad  ;  tell  my  wife  to  bring 
my  coffee  and  the  liqueurs,  and  tell  Jean  to  harness  up. 
I  'm  off  to  Soulanges  ;  will  see  3'ou  to-night !  —  Ah  ! 
Vaudoyer,  good  afternoon,"  said  the  late  ma3'or  as  his 
former  field-keeper  entered  the  room.  "What's  the 
news  ?  " 

Vaudoyer  related  the  talk  which  had  just  taken  place 
at  the  tavern,   and   asked  Rigou's  opinion   as  to  the 


284  Sons  of  the  Soil  ' 

legality  of  the  rules  which  the  general  thought  of 
enforcing. 

"  He  has  the  law  with  him,"  said  Rigou,  curtly.  "  We 
have  a  hard  landlord ;  the  Abbe  Brossette  is  a  malig- 
nant priest ;  he  advises  all  such  measures  because  you 
don't  go  to  mass,  you  miserable  unbelievers.  I  go ; 
there's  a  God.  I  tell  3-ou.  You  peasants  will  have  to 
bear  everything,  for  the  Shopman  will  always  get  the 
better  of  you  —  *'" 

"  We  shall  glean,"  said  Vaudoyer,  in  that  determined 
tone  which  characterizes  Burgundians. 

"Without  a  certificate  of  pauperism?"  asked  the 
usurer.  "  They  say  the  Shopman  has  gone  to  the  Pre- 
fecture to  ask  for  troops  so  as  to  force  you  to  keep  the 
law." 

''  We  shall  glean  as  we  have  alwa^'s  gleaned,"  repeated 
Vaudoyer, 

"Well,  glean  then!  Monsieur  Sarcus  will  decide 
whether  you  have  the  right  to,"  said  Rigou,  seeming  to 
promise  the  help  of  the  justice  of  the  peace. 

"  We  shall  glean,  and  we  shall  do  it  in  force,  or  Bur- 
gundy won't  be  Burgundy  any  longer,"  said  Vaudoyer. 
"  If  the  gendarmes  have  sabres  we  have  scythes,  and 
we  '11  see  what  comes  of  it !  " 

At  half-past  four  o'clock  the  great  green  gate  of  the 
former  parsonage  turned  on  its  hinges,  and  the  bay 
horse,  led  by  Jean,  was  brought  round  to  the  front  door. 
Madame  Rigou  and  Annette  came  out  on  the  steps  and 
looked  at  the  little  wicker  carriage,  painted  green,  with 
a  leathern  hood,  where  their  lord  and  master  was  com- 
fortably seated  on  good  cushions. 

"Don't  be  late  home,  monsieur,"  said  Annette,  with 
a  little  pout. 


Sons  of  the  Soil  285 

The  village  folk,  already  informed  of  the  measures 
the  general  proposed  to  take,  were  at  their  doors  or 
standing  in  the  main  street  as  Rigou  drove  by,  believ- 
ing that  he  was  -going  to  Soulanges  in  their  defence. 

''  Well,  Madame  Courtecuisse,  so  our  ma3'oris  on  his 
way  to  protect  us,"  remarked  an  old  woman  as  she 
knitted  ;  the  question  of  depredating  in  the  forest  was 
of  great  interest  to  her,  for  her  husband  sold  the  stolen 
wood  at  Soulanges. 

*'  Ah !  the  good  man,  his  heart  bleeds  to  see  the  way 
we  are  treated ;  he  is  as  unhappy  as  we  are  about  it," 
replied  the  poor  woman,  who  trembled  at  the  very 
name  of  her  husband's  creditor,  and  praised  him  out 
of  fear. 

''  And  he  himself,  too,  —  they  've  shamefully  ill-used 
him  !  Good-da}^  Monsieur  Rigou,"  said  the  old  knitter 
to  the  usurer,  who  bowed  to  her  and  to  his  debtor's 
wife. 

As  Rigou  crossed  the  Thune,  fordable  at  all  seasons, 
Ton  sard  came  out  of  the  tavern  and  met  him  on  the 
high-road. 

''  Well,  Pere  Rigou,"  he  said,  "  so  the  Shopman 
means  to  make  dogs  of  us?" 

'*  We  '11  see  about  that,"  said  the  usurer,  whipping 
up  his  horse. 

'*  He'll  protect  us,"  said  Tonsard,  turning  to  a  group 
of  women  and  cliildren  who  were  near  him. 

"  Rigou  is  thinking  as  much  about  you  as  a  cook 
thinks  of  the  gudgeons  he  is  frying  in  his  pan,"  called 
out  Fourchon. 

"Take  the  clapper  out  of  3'our  throat  when  you  are 
drunk,"  said  Mouche,  pulling  his  grandfather  by  the 
blouse,  and  tumbling  him  down  on  a  bank  under  a  pop- 


286  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

lar  tree.     "  If  that  hound  of  a  mayor  heard  you  say 
that,  he  'd  uever  buy  any  more  of  your  tales. 

The  truth  was  that  Rigou  was  hurrying  to  Soulanges 
in  consequence  of  the  warning  given  him  by  the  steward 
of  Les  Aigues,  which,  in  his  heart,  he  regarded  as 
threatening  the  secret  coalition  of  the  valley. 


Sons  of  the  Soil  287 


SECOND  PART. 


THE  LEADING  SOCIETY  OF  SOULANGES. 

About  six  kilometres  (speaking  legally)  from  Blangy, 
and  at  the  same  distance  from  Ville-aux-Fayes,  on  an 
elevation  radiating  from  the  long  hillside  at  the  foot  of 
which  flows  the  Avonne,  stands  the  little  town  of  Sou- 
langes,  surnamed  La  Jolie,  with,  perhaps,  more  right 
to  that  title  than  Mantes. 

At  the  foot  of  the  hill,  the  Thune  broadens  over  a 
cla}'  bottom  to  a  space  of  some  seventy  acres,  at  the 
end  of  which  the  Soulanges  mills,  placed  on  numerous 
little  islets,  present  as  graceful  a  group  of  buildings  as 
any  landscape  architect  could  devise.  After  watering 
the  park  of  Soulanges,  where  it  feeds  various  other 
streams  and  artificial  lakes,  the  Thune  falls  into  the 
Avonne  through  a  fine  broad  channel. 

The  chateau  of  Soulanges,  rebuilt  under  Louis  XIV. 
from  designs  of  Jules  Mansart,  and  one  of  the  finest  in 
Burgundy,  stands  facing  the  town  ;  so  that  Soulanges 
md  its  chateau  mutually  present  to  each  other  a  charm- 
ing and  even  elegant  vista.  The  main  road  winds 
between  the  town  and  the  pond,  called  by  the  country 
people,  rather  pomp6usly,  the  lake  of  Soulanges. 

The  little  town  is  one  of  tliose  natural  compositions 
which  are  extremely  rare  in  France,  where  pretti7iess  of 


288  Sons  of  the  Soil 

its  own  kind  is  absolutely  wanting.  Here  you  would 
indeed  find,  as  Blondet  said  in  his  letter,  the  charm  of 
Switzerland,  the  prettiness  of  the  environs  of  Neuf- 
chatel ;  while  the  bright  vineyards  which  encircle  Sou- 
langes  complete  the  resemblance,  —  leaving  out,  be  it 
said,  the  Alps  and  the  Jura.  The  streets,  placed  one 
above  another  on  the  slope  of  the  hill,  have  but  few 
houses  ;  for  each  house  stands  in  its  own  garden,  which 
produces  a  mass  of  greenery  rarely  seen  in  a  town.  The 
roofs,  red  or  blue,  rising  among  flower-gardens,  trees, 
and  trellised  terraces,  present  an  harmonious  varietj' 
of  aspects. 

The  church,  an  old  Middle-Age  structure,  built  of 
stone,  thanks  to  the  munificence  of  the  lords  of  Sou- 
langes,  who  reserved  for  themselves  first  a  chapel 
near  the  chancel,  then  a  crypt  as  their  necropolis,  has, 
by  way  of  portal,  an  immense  arcade,  like  that  of  the 
church  at  Lonjumeau,  and  is  bordered  b}'  flower-beds 
adorned  with  statues,  and  flanked  on  either  side  by 
columns  with  niches,  which  terminate  in  spires.  This 
portal,  often  seen  in  churches  of  the  same  period  when 
chance  has  saved  them  from  the  ravages  of  Calvinism, 
is  surmounted  bv  a  triglyph,  above  which  stands  a 
statue  of  the  Virgin  holding  the  infant  Jesus.  The 
sides  of  the  structure  are  externall3'  of  five  arches,  de- 
fined by  stone  ribs  and  lighted  by  windows  with  small 
panes.  The  apse  rests  on  arched  abutments  that  are 
worthy  of  a  cathedral.  The  clock-tower,  placed  in  a 
transept  of  the  cross,  is  square  and  surmounted  by  a 
belfry.  The  church  can  be  seen  from  a  great  distance, 
for  it  stands  at  the  top  of  the  great  square,  at  the  lower 
end  of  which  the  high-road  passes  through  the  town. 

This  square,  large  for  the  size  of  the  town,  is  sur- 


Sons  of  the  Soil  289 

rounded  by  very  original  buildings,  all  of  different 
epochs.  Man}^  half-wood,  half-brick,  with  their  timbers 
faced  with  slate,  date  back  to  the  Middle  Ages.  Others, 
of  stone,  with  balconies,  show  the  form  of  gable  so  dear 
to  our  ancestors,  which  belongs  to  the  twelfth  century. 
Several  charm  the  eye  with  tliose  old  projecting  beams, 
carved  with  grotesque  faces,  which  form  the  roof  of  a 
sort  of  shed,  and  recall  the  days  when  the  middle 
classes  were  exclusively  commercial.  The  finest  house 
among  them  was  that  of  the  chief  magistrate  of  former 
da3'S,  —  a  house  with  a  sculptured  front  on  a  line  with 
the  church,  to  which  it  forms  a  fine  accompaniment. 
Sold  as  national  property,  it  was  bought  in  by  the  com- 
mune, which  turned  it  into  a  town-hall  and  court-house, 
where  Monsieur  Sarcus  had  presided  ever  since  the 
establishment  of  municipal  judges. 

This  slight  sketch  will  give  an  idea  of  the  square  of 
Soulanges,  adorned  in  the  centre  with  a  charming  foun- 
tain brought  from  Italy  in  1520  by  the  Marechal  de 
Soulanges,  which  was  not  unworthy  of  a  great  capital. 
An  unfailing  jet  of  water,  coming  from  a  spring  higher 
up  the  hill,  was  shed  by  four  Cupids  in  white  marble, 
bearing  shells  in  their  arms  and  baskets  of  grapes  upon 
their  heads. 

Literary  travellers  who  may  pass  this  way  (should 
any  such  follow  Emile  Blondet)  might  imagine  the 
spot  to  have  inspired  Moliere  and  the  Spanish  drama, 
which  held  its  footing  so  long  on  French  boards,  show- 
ing that  comedy  is  native  to  warm  countries  where  so 
much  of  life  is  passed  in  the  public  streets.  The  square 
of  Soulanges  is  all  the  more  a  reminder  of  that  classic 
stage  because  the  two  principal  streets,  opening  just  on 
a  Une  with  the  fountain,  afford  the  exit  and  entrancjes  so 

19 


290  Sons  of  the  Soil.  ] 

necessaiy  for  the  dramatic  masters  and  valets  whose 
business  it  is  either  to  meet  or  to  avoid  each  other.  At 
the  corner  of  one  of  these  streets,  called  the  rue  de  la 
Fontaine,  shone  the  notarial  escutcheon  of  Maitre  Lu- 
pin. The  houses  of  Messieurs  Sarcus,  Guerbet  the  col- 
lector, Brunet,  Gourdon,  clerk  of  the  court,  and  that  of 
his  brother  the  doctor,  also  that  of  old  Monsieur  Gen- 
drin-Vatebled,  the  keeper  of  the  forests  and  streams,  — 
all  these  houses,  kept  with  extreme  neatness  by  their 
owners,  who  held  firml}^  to  the  flattering  surname  of 
their  native  town,  stand  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 
square  and  form  the  aristocratic  quarter  of  Soulanges. 

The  house  of  Madame  Soudrj- — for  the  powerful 
individuality  of  Mademoiselle  Laguerre's  former  wait- 
ingrmaid  took  the  lead  of  her  husband  in  the  commu- 
nity —  was  modern,  having  been  built  by  a  rich  wine 
merchant,  born  in  Soulanges,  who,  after  making  his 
money  in  Paris,  returned  there  in  1793  to  buy  wheat 
for  his  native  town.  He  was  slain  as  an  "  accapareur," 
a  monopolist,  by  the  populace,  instigated  by  a  mason, 
the  uncle  of  Godain,  with  whom  he  had  had  some  quar- 
rel about  the  building  of  his  ambitious  house.  The 
settlement  of  his  estate,  sharply-  contested  b^'  collateral 
heirs,  dragged  slowly  along  until,  in  1798,  Soudry,  who 
had  then  returned  to  Soulanges,  was  able  to  buy  the 
wine-merchant's  palace  for  three  thousand  francs  in 
specie.  He  then  let  it,  in  the  first  instance,  to  the 
government  for  the  headquarters  of  the  gendarmerie. 
In  1811  Mademoiselle  Cochet,  whom  Soudry  consulted 
about  all  his  affairs,  strongly  objected  to  the  renewal 
of  the  lease,  making  the  house  uninhabitable,  she  de- 
clared, wath  barracks.  The  town  of  Soulanges,  assisted 
by  the  department,  then  erected  a  building  for  the  gen- 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  291 

darraerie  in  a  street  running  at  right  angles  from  the 
town-hall.  Thereupon  Soudr}-  cleaned  up  his  house  and 
restored  its  primitive  lustre,  not  a  little  dimmed  b}^  the 
stabling  of  horses  and  tlie  occupancy  of  gendarmes. 

The  house,  onl}-  one  story  high,  with  projecting 
windows  in  the  roof,  has  a  view  on  three  sides  ;  one  to 
the  square,  another  to  a  lake,  the  third  to  a  garden. 
The  fourth  side  looks  on  a  courtyard  which  separates 
the  Soudrys  from  the  adjoining  house  occupied  by  a 
grocer  named  Wattebled,  a  man  of  the  second-class 
society  of  Soulanges,  father  of  the  beautiful  Madame 
Plissoud,  of  whom  we  shall  presently  tave  occasion  to 
speak. 

All  little  towns  have  a  renowned  beauty,  just  as  they 
have  a  Socquard  and  a  Cafe  de  la  Paix. 

It  will  be  apparent  to  every  one  that  the  frontage  of 
tlie  Soudry  mansion  on  the  lake  must  have  a  terraced 
garden  confined  bj^  a  stone  balustrade  which  overlooks 
both  the  lake  and  the  main  road.  A  flight  of  steps 
leads  down  from  the  terrace  to  the  road,  and  on  it  an 
orange-tree,  a  pomegranate,  a  myrtle,  and  other  orna- 
mental shrubs  are  placed,  necessitating  a  greenhouse. 
On  the  side  toward  the  square  the  house  is  entered 
from  a  portico  raised  several  steps  above  the  level  of 
the  street.  According  to  the  custom  of  small  towns 
the  gate  of  the  courtyard,  used  onl}'  for  the  service 
of  the  house  or  for  any  unusual  arrival,  was  seldom 
opened.  Visitors,  who  mostlj'  came  on  foot,  entered 
by  the  portico. 

The  style  of  the  Hotel  Soudrj'  is  plain.  The  courses 
are  indicated  by  projecting  lines ;  the  windows  are 
IVaraed  b}'  mouldings  alternately  broad  and  slender,  like 
those  of  the  Gabriel  and  Perronnet  pavilion  in  the  place 


292  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

Louis  XV.  These  ornaments  in  so  small  a  town  give 
a  certain  solid  and  monumental  air  to  the  building 
which  has  become  celebrated. 

Opposite  to  this  house,  in  another  angle  of  the  square 
stands  the  famous  Cafe  de  la  Paix,  the  characteristics 
of  which,  together  with  the  fascinations  of  its  Tivoli, 
will  require,  somewhat  later,  a  less  succinct  description 
than  that  we  have  given  of  the  Soudrj^  mansion. 

Rigou  very  seldom  came  to  Soulanges  ;  ever3'bod3"  was 
in  the  habit  of  going  to  him,  — Lupin  and  Gaubertin, 
Soudrj'  and  Gendrin,  —  so  much  were  they  afraid  of  him. 
But  we  shall  presently  understand  wh}-  any  educated 
man,  such  as  the  ex-Benedictine,  would  have  done  as 
Rigou  did,  and  kept  awa}'  from  the  little  town,  after 
reading  the  following  sketch  of  the  personages  who 
composed  what  was  called  in  those  parts  "  the  leading 
society  of  Soulanges." 

Of  its  principal  figures,  the  most  original,  as  you 
have  already  suspected,  was  that  of  Madame  Soudrj^ 
whose  personality,  to  be  duly  rendered,  needs  a  minute 
and  careful  brush. 

Madame  Soudry,  respectfully  imitating  Mademoiselle 
Laguerre,  began  b}'  allowing  herself  a  ''  mere  touch  of 
rouge ;  "  but  this  delicate  tint  had  changed  through 
force  of  habit  to  those  vermilion  patches  picturesquely 
described  by  our  ancestors  as  "  carriage- wheels."  The 
WTinkles  growing  deeper  and  deeper,  it  occurred  to  the 
ex-lady's-maid  to  fill  them  up  with  paint.  Her  forehead 
becoming  unduh'  yellow,  and  the  temples  too  shin}-, 
she  "  laid  on  "  a  little  white,  and  renewed  the  veips  of 
her  j^outh  with  a  tracery  of  blue.  All  this  color  gave 
an  exaggerated  liveliness  to  her  eyes  which  were  already 
tricksy  enough,  so  that  the  mask  of  her  face  would  seem 


Sons  of  the  Soil  293 

to  a  stranger  even  more  than  fantastic,  though  her 
friends  and  acquaintance,  accustomed  to  this  fictitious 
brilliancy,  actually  declared  her  handsome. 

This  ungainly  creature,  always  decolletee,  showed  a 
bosom  and  a  pair  of  shoulders  that  were  whitened  and 
polished  by  the  same  process  employed  upon  her  face  ; 
happily,  for  the  sake  of  exhibiting  her  magnificent  laces, 
she  partially  veiled  the  charms  of  these  chemical  pro- 
ducts. She  always  wore  the  body  of  her  dress  stiffened 
with  whalebone  and  made  in  a  long  point  and  garnished 
with  knots  of  ribbon,  even  on  the  point !  Her  petticoats 
gave  forth  a  creaking  noise,  —  so  much  did  the  silk  and 
the  furbelows  abound. 

This  attire,  which  deserves  the  name  of  apparel  (a 

tword  that  before  long  will  be  inexplicable),  was,  on 
the  evei  ing  in  question,  of  costly  brocade, — for  Ma- 
dame Soudry  possessed  over  a  hundred  dresses,  each 
licher  than  the  others,  the  remains  of  Mademoiselle 
p^aguerre's  enormous  and  splendid  wardrobe,  made 
Over  to  fit  Madame  Soudry  in  the  last  fashion  of  the 
year  1808.  Her  blond  wig,  frizzed  and  powdered, 
sustained  a  superb  cap  with  knots  of  cherry  satin  ribbon 
matching  those  on  her  dress.  If  30U  will  kindly  im- 
agine beneath  this  ultra-coquettish  cap  the  face  of  a 
monkey  of  extreme  ugliness,  on  which  a  flat  nose^  flesh- 
less  as  that  of  Deatii,  is  separated  by  a  strong  hairy 
line  from  a  mouth  filled  with  false  teeth,  whence  issue 
sounds  like  the  confused  clacking  of  hunting-horns,  30U 
will  have  some  difficulty  in  understanding  why  the 
leading  societ}'  of  Soulanges  (all  the  town,  in  fact) 
thought  this  quasi-queen  a  beauty,  —  unless,  indeed, 
you  remember  the  succinct  statement  recently  made  ex 
professo^  by  one  of  the  cleverest  women  of  our  time, 


294  Sons  of  the  Soil 

on  the  art  of  making  her  sex  beautiful  by  surrounding 
accessories. 

As  to  accessories,  in  the  first  place,  Madame  Soudry 
was  surrounded  by  the  magnificent  gifts  accumulated 
b3^  her  late  mistress,  which  the  ex-Benedictine  called 
fructus  belli.  Then  she  made  the  most  of  her  ughness 
by  exaggerating  it,  and  by  assuming  that  indescribable 
air  and  manner  which  belongs  onl}^  to  Parisian  women, 
the  secret  of  which  is  known  even  to  the  most  vulgar 
among  them,  —  who  are  always  more  or  less  mimics. 
She  laced  tight,  wore  an  enormous  bustle,  also  diamond 
earrings,  and  her  fingers  were  covered  with  rings.  At 
the  top  of  her  corsage,  between  two  mounds  of  flesh 
well  plastered  with  pearl-white,  shone  a  beetle  made 
of  topaz  with  a  diamond  head,  the  gift  of  dear  mis- 
tress,—  a  jewel  renowned  throughout  the  department- 
Like  the  late  dear  mistress,  she  wore  short  sleeves  and 
bare  arms,  and  flirted  an  ivory  fan,  painted  by  Boucher 
with  two  little  rose-diamonds  in  the  handle. 

When  she  went  out  Madame  Soudry  carried  a 
parasol  of  the  true  eighteenth-centurj'  style ;  that  is 
to  saj',  a  tall  cane  at  the  end  of  which  opened  a  green 
sun-shade  with  a  green  fringe.  When  she  walked 
about  the  terrace  a  stranger  on  the  high-road,  seeing 
her  from  afar,  might  have  thought  her  one  of  Watteau's 
dames. 

In  her  salon,  hung  with  red  damask,  with  curtains 
of  the  same  lined  with  white  silk,  a  fire  on  the  hearth, 
a  mantel- shelf  adorned  with  bibelots  of  the  good  time 
of  Louis  XV.,  and  bearing  candelabra  in  the  form  of 
lilies  upheld  by  Cupids  —  in  this  salon,  filled  with  fur- 
niture in  gilded  wood  of  the  pled  de  biche  pattern,  it 
is   not   impossible   to   understand   why  the   people  of 


Sons  of  the  Soil  295 

Soulanges  called  the  mistress  of  the  house,  "  The 
beautiful  Madame  Soulanges."  The  mansion  had  ac- 
tuall3^  become  the  civic  pride  of  this  capital  of  a 
canton. 

If  the  leading  society  of  the  little  town  believed  in 
its  queen,  the  queen  as  surely  believed  in  herself.  By 
a  phenomenon  not  in  the  least  rare,  which  the  vanity 
of  mothers  and  authors  carries  on  at  all  moments  under 
our  very  eyes  in  behalf  of  their  literary  works  or  their 
marriageable  daughters,  the  late  Mademoselle  Cochet 
was,  at  the  end  of  seven  j-ears,  so  completelj^  buried 
under  Madame  Soudry,  the  mayoress,  that  she  not 
only  did  not  remember  her  past,  but  she  actually  be- 
lieved herself  a  well-bred  woman.  She  had  studied 
the  airs  and  graces,  the  dulcet  tones,  the  gestures,  the 
ways  of  her  mistress,  so  long  that  when  she  found  her- 
self in  the  midst  of  an  opulence  of  her  own  she  was 
able  to  practice  the  natural  insolence  of  it.  She  knew 
her  eighteenth  century,  and  the  tales  of  its  great  lords 
and  all  their  belongings,  by  heart.  This  back-stairs 
erudition  gave  to  her  conversation  a  flavor  of  ceil-de- 
boeuf\  her  soubrette  gossip  passed  muster  for  courtly 
wit.  Morally,  the  mayoress  was,  if  you  wish  to  sa}^ 
so,  tinsel ;  but  to  savages  paste  diamonds  are  as  good 
as  real  ones. 

The  woman  found  herself  courted  and  worshipped  by 
the  society  in  which  she  lived,  just  as  her  mistress  had 
been  worshipped  in  former  days.  She  gave  weekly 
dinners,  with  coffee  and  liqueurs  to  those  who  came  in 
after  the  dessert.  No  female  head  could  have  resisted 
the  exhilarating  force  of  such  continual  adulation.  In 
winter  the  warm  salon,  always  well-lighted  with  wax 
candles,   was    well-fille^   "^Sth    the    richest    people  of 


296  Sons  of  the  Soil 

Soulanges,  who  paid  for  the  good  liqueurs  and  the  fine 
wines  which  came  from  dear  mistress's  cellars,  with 
flatteries  to  their  hostess.  These  visitors  and  their 
wives  had  a  life-interest,  as  it  were,  in  this  luxury  ; 
which  was  to  them  a  saving  of  lights  and  fuel.  Thus 
it  came  to  pass  that  in  a  circuit  of  fifteen  miles  and 
even  as  far  as  Ville-aux-Fayes,  every  voice  was  ready 
to  declare :  "  Madame  Soudry  does  the  honors  admi- 
rably. She  keeps  open  house  ;  every  one  enjoys  her 
salon  ;  she  knows  how  to  carry  herself  and  her  fortune  ; 
she  always  sa}  s  the  witty  thing,  she  makes  you  laugh. 
And  what  splendid  silver  !  There  is  not  another  house 
like  it  short  of  Paris  —  " 

The  silver  had  been  given  to  Mademoiselle  Laguerre 
b^'  Bouret.  It  was  a  magnificent  service  made  b}'  the 
famous  Germain,  and  Madame  Soudry  had  literally 
stolen  it.  At  Mademoiselle  Laguerre's  death  she 
merely  took  it  into  her  own  room,  and  the  heirs,  who 
knew  nothing  of  the  value  of  their  inheritance,  never 
claimed  it. 

For  some  time  past  the  twelve  or  fifteen  personages 
who  composed  the  leading  society  of  Soulanges  spoke 
of  Madame  Soudry  as  the  intimate  friend  of  Mademoi- 
selle Laguerre,  recoiling  at  the  term  "  waiting- woman," 
and  making  believe  that  she  had  sacrificed  herself  to 
the  singer  as  her  friend  and  companion. 

Strange  yet  true  !  all  these  illusions  became  realities, 
and  spread  even  to  the  actual  regions  of  the  heart ; 
Madame  Soudrj^  reigned  supreme,  in  a  wa}',  over  her 
husband. 

The  gendarme,  required  to  love  a  woman  ten  years 
older  than  himself  who  kept  the  management  of  h(M* 
fortune  in  her  own  hands,  behaved  to  her  in  the   spirit 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  297 

of  the  ideas  she  had  ended  by  adopting  about  her 
beauty.  But  sometimes,  when  persons  envied  him  or 
talked  to  him  of  his  happiness,  he  wished  they  were  in 
his  place,  for,  to  hide  his  peccadilloes,  he  was  forced 
to  take  as  many  precautions  as  the  husband  of  a  young 
and  adoring  wife  ;  and  it  was  not  until  very  recentl3'' 
that  he  had  been  able  to  introduce  into  the  family  a 
pretty  servant-girl. 

This  portrait  of  the  Queen  of  Soulanges  may  seem  a 
little  grotesque,  but  man}^  specimens  of  the  same  kind 
could  be  found  in  the  provinces  at  that  period,  — some 
more  or  less  noble  in  blood,  others  belonging  to  the 
higher  banking-circles,  like  the  widow  of  a  receiver- 
general  in  Touraine  who  still  puts  slices  of  veal  upon 
her  cheeks.  This  portrait,  drawn  from  nature,  would 
be  incomplete  without  the  diamonds  in  which  it  is  set ; 
without  the  surrounding  courtiers,  a  sketch  of  whom 
is  necessar}',  if  only  to  explain  how  formidable  such 
Liliputians  are,  and  who  are  the  makers  of  public 
opinion  in  remote  little  towns.  Let  no  one  mistake 
me,  however ;  there  are  man}"  localities  which,  like 
anges,  are  neither  hamlets,  villages,  nor  little  towns, 
hich  have,  nevertheless,  the  characteristics  of  all. 
The  inhabitants  are  ver}'  different  from  those  of  the 
large  and  busy  and  vicious  provincial  cities.  Country 
life  influences  the  manners  and  morals  of  the  smaller 
places,  and  this  mixture  of  tints  will  be  found  to 
produce  some  trul}'  original  characters. 

The  most  important  personage  after  Madame  Sou- 
dry  was  Lupin,  the  notary.  Though  forty-tive  springs 
had  bloomed  for  Lupin,   he  was  still  fresh  and  rosj', 

anks  to  the  plumpness  which  fills  out  the  skin  of 
entary  persons  ;  and  he  still  sang  ballads.    Also,  he 


298  Sons  of  the  Soil  '    » 

retained  the  elegant  evening  dress  of  society  warblers. 
He  looked  almost  Parisian  in  bis  carefully-varnished 
boots,  his  sulphur-yellow  waistcoats,  his  tight-fitting 
coats,  his  handsome  silk  cravats,  his  fashionable  trou- 
sers. His  hair  was  curled  by  the  barber  of  Soulanges 
(the  gossip  of  the  town),  and  he  maintained  the  attitude 
of  a  man  a  bonne  fortunes  by  his  liaison  with  Madame 
Sarcus,  wife  of  Sarcus  the  rich,  who  was  to  his  hfe, 
without  too  close  a  comparison,  what  the  campaigns  of 
Italy  were  to  Napoleon.  He  alone  of  the  leading  society 
of  Soulanges  went  to  Paris,  where  he  was  received  by 
the  Soulanges  family.  It  was  enough  to  hear  him  talk 
to  imagine  the  supremacy  he  wielded  in  his  capacit}^ 
as  dandy  and  judge  of  elegance.  He  passed  judgment 
on  all  things  by  the  use  of  three  terms  :  "  out  of  date," 
**  antiquated,"  *'  superannuated."  ^  A  man,  a  woman, 
or  a  piece  of  furniture  might  be  "  out  of  date  ;  "  next, 
by  a  greater  degree  of  imperfection,  "  antiquated  ;  "  but 
as  to  the  last  term,  it  was  the  superlative  of  contempt. 
The  first  might  be  remedied,  the  second  was  hopeless, 
but  the  third,  —  oh,  better  far  never  to  have  left  the 
void  of  nothingness  !  As  to  praise,  a  single  word  suf- 
ficed him,  doubly  and  trebly  uttered:  "Charming!" 
was  the  positive  of  his  admiration.  "Charming, 
charming !  "  made  you  feel  3'ou  were  safe ;  but  after 
"  Charming,  charming,  charming  !  "  the  ladder  might  be 
discarded,  for  the  heaven  of  perfection  was  attained. 

The  tabelhon,  —  he  called  himself  tahellion,  petty 
notar}^  and  keeper  of  notes  (making  fun  of  his  calling 
in  order  to  seem  above  it) ,  —  the   tabellion  was   on 

1  Craute,  crouton,  and  croute-au-pot,  untranslatable,  and  without 
eqiiivalent  in  English.  A  croute  is  the  slang  term  for  a  man  be 
hind  the  age.  —  Tr. 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  299 

terms  of  spoken  gallantry  with  Madame  Soudry,  who 
had  a  weakness  for  Lupin,  though  he  was  blond  and 
wore  spectacles.  Hitherto  the  late  Cochet  had  loved 
none  but  dark  men,  with  moustachios  and  hairy  hands, 
of  the  Alcides  t3'pe.  But  she  made  an  exception  in  fa- 
vor of  Lupin  on  account  of  his  elegance,  and,  moreover, 
because  she  thought  her  glory  at  Soulanges  was  not 
complete  without  an  adorer ;  but,  to  Soudry's  despair, 
the  queen's  adorers  never  carried  their  adoration  so 
far  as  to  threaten  his  rights. 

Lupin's  voice  was  a  counter-tenor;  he  gave  speci- 
mens of  it  occasional]}'  in  the  corners  of  the  salon  or  on 
the  terrace, — just  enough  to  remind  the  company  of 
his  talent  for  making  himself  agreeable,  —  a  rock  against 
which  all  agreeable  men  are  apt  to  split,  and,  alas  !  men 
of  genius  also. 

Lupin  had  married  an  heiress  in  wooden  shoes  and 
blue  woollen  stockings,  the  onl}'  daughter  of  a  salt- 
dealer,  who  made  his  money  during  the  Revolution,  — 
a  period  when  contraband  salt-traders  made  enormous 
profits  by  reason  of  the  reaction  that  set  in  against  the 
gabelle.  He  prudently  left  his  wife  at  home,  where 
Bebelle,  as  he  called  her,  was  supported  under  his  ab- 
sence by  a  platonic  passion  for  a  handsome  clerk  who 
had  no  other  means  than  his  salary,  —  a  young  man 
named  Bonnac,  belonging  to  the  second-class  society, 
where  he  played  the  same  role  that  his  master,  the 
notary,  played  in  the  first. 

Madame  Lupin,  a  woman  without  any  education 
whatever,  appeared  on  great  occasions  only,  under  the 
form  of  an  enormous  Burgundian  barrel  dressed  in  vel- 
vet and  surmounted  b}^  a  little  head  sunken  in  shoulders 
of  a  questionable  color.  No  efforts  could  retain  her  waist- 


300  Sons  of  the  Soil 

belt  in  its  natural  place.  "  Bebelle  "  candidly  admitted 
that  prudence  forbade  her  wearing  corsets.  The  im- 
agination of  a  poet  or,  better  still,  that  of  an  inventor, 
could  not  have  found  on  Bebelle's  back  the  slightest 
trace  of  that  seductive  sinuosity  which  the  vertebrae  of 
all  women  who  are  women  usually  produce.  Bebelle, 
round  as  a  tortoise,  belonged  to  the  genus  of  inverte- 
brate females.  This  alarming  development  of  cellular 
tissue  no  doubt  reassured  Lupin  on  the  subject  of  the 
platonic  passion  of  his  fat  wife,  whom  he  boldly  called 
Bebelle  without  raising  a  laugh. 

"  Your  wife,  what  is  she?"  said  Sarcus  the  rich,  one 
day  when  unable  to  digest  the  fatal  word  "  superannu- 
ated," applied  to  a  piece  of  furniture  he  had  just  bought 
at  a  bargain. 

"  My  wife  is  not  like  3'ours,"  replied  Lupin  ;  "  she  is 
not  defined  as  yet." 

Beneath  his  rosy  exterior  the  notar}^  possessed 
a  subtle  mind,  and  he  had  the  sense  to  say  nothing 
about  his  property,  which  was  fully  as  large  as  that  of 
Rigou. 

Monsieur  Lupin's  son,  Amaury,  was  a  great  trouble 
to  his  father.  An  onlv  son,  and  one  of  the  Don  Juans  of 
the  valley,  he  utterlj-  refused  to  follow  the  paternal  pro- 
fession. He  took  advantage  of  his  position  as  only  son 
to  bleed  the  strong-box  cruelly,  without,  however,  ex- 
hausting the  patience  of  his  father,  who  would  say  after 
ever}'  escapade,  "Well,  I  was  like  that  in  m}'  young 
days."  Amaury  never  came  to  Madame  Soudry's  ;  he 
said  she  bored  him  ;  for,  with  a  recollection  of  her  eaily 
days,  she  attempted  to  "educate"  him,  as  she  called  it, 
whereas  he  much  preferred  the  pleasures  and  billiards 
of  the  Cafe  de  la  Paix.     He  frequented  the  worst  com- 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  801 

pany  of  Soulanges,  even  down  to  Bonnebault.  He 
continued  sowing  his  wild  oats,  as  Madame  Soudr}'^  re- 
marked, and  replied  to  all  his  father's  remonstrances 
with  one  perpetual  request:  ''  Send  me  back  to  Paris, 
for  I  am  bored  to  death  here." 

Lupin  ended,  alas  !  like  other  gallants,  by  an  attach- 
ment that  was  semi-conjugal.  His  known  passion,  in 
spite  of  his  former  liaison  with  Madame  Sarcus,  was  for 
the  wife  of  the  under-sheriff  of  the  municipal  court,  — 
Madame  Euphemie  Plissoud,  daughter  of  Wattebled 
the  grocer,  who  reigned  in  the  second-class  society  as 
Madame  Soudr}-  did  in  the  first.  Monsieur  Plissoud, 
a  competitor  of  Brunet,  belonged  to  the  under-world  of 
Soulanges  on  acconnt  of  his  wife's  conduct,  which  it 
was  said  he  authorized,  —  a  report  that  drew  upon  him 
the  contempt  of  the  leading  societ}'. 

If  Lupin  was  the  musician  of  the  leading  society, 
Monsieur  Gourdon,  the  doctor,  was  its  man  of  science. 
The  town  said  of  him,  "  We  have  here  in  our  midst 
a  scientific  man  of  the  first  order."  Madame  Soudry 
(who  believed  she  understood  music  because  she  had 
ushered  in  Piccini  and  Gluck  and  had  dressed  Made- 
moiselle Laguerre  for  the  Opera)  persuaded  society, 
and  even  Lupin  himself,  that  he  might  have  made  his 
fortune  by  his  voice,  and,  in  like  manner,  she  was 
always  regretting  that  the  doctor  did  not  publish  his 
scientific  ideas. 

Monsieur  Gourdon  merely  repeated  the  ideas  of 
Cuvier  and  Buffon,  which  might  not  have  enabled  him 
to  pose  as  a  scientist  before  the  Soulanges  woi'ld ;  but 
besides  tliis  he  was  makuig  a  collection  of  shells,  and 
he  possessed  an  herbarium,  and  he  knew  how  to  stuff 
birds.     He  lived  upon  the  glory  of  having  bequeathed 


302  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

his  cabinet  of  natural  histor}^  to  the  town  of  Soulanges. 
After  this  was  known  he  was  considered  throughout 
the  department  as  a  great  naturaUst  and  the  successor 
of  Butfon.  Like  a  certain  Genevese  banker,  whose 
pedantr}^  coldness^  and  puritan  propriety  he  copied, 
without  possessing  either  his  money  or  his  shrewdness, 
Monsieur  Gourdon  exhibited  with  great  complacency 
the  famous  collection,  consisting  of  a  bear  and  a  mon- 
key (both  of  which  died  on  their  way  to  Soulanges), 
all  the  rodents  of  the  department,  mice  and  field-mice 
and  dormice,  rats,  muskrats,  and  moles,  etc. ;  all  the 
interesting  birds  ever  shot  in  Burgundy,  and  an  Alpine 
eagle  caught  in  the  Jura.  Gourdon  also  possessed  a 
collection  of  lepidoptera,  —  a  word  which  led  society 
to  hope  for  monstrosities,  and  to  say,  when  it  saw  them, 
"Why,  they  are  only  butterflies!"  Besides  these 
things  he  had  a  fine  array  of  fossil  shells,  mostly  the 
collections  of  his  friends  which  they  bequeathed  to, 
him,  and  all  the  minerals  of  Burgundy  and  the  Jura.     » 

These  treasures,  laid  out  on  shelves  with  glass  doors 
(the  drawers  beneath  containing  the  insects),  occupied 
the  whole  of  the  first  floor  of  the  doctor's  house,  and 
produced  a  certain  eff"ect  through  the  oddity  of  the 
names  on  the  tickets,  the  magic  eff'ect  of  the  colors, 
and  the  gathering  together  of  so  many  things  which 
no  one  pays  the  slightest  attention  to  when  seen  in  na- 
ture, though  much  admired  under  glass.  Society  took 
a  regular  daj^  to  go  and  look  at  Monsieur  Gourdon's 
collection. 

"  I  have,"  he  said  to  all  inquirers,  "  five  hundred 
ornithological  objects,  two  hundred  mammifers,  five 
thousand  insects,  three  thousand  shells,  and  seven 
thousand  specimens  of  minerals." 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  303 

"  What  patience  you  have  had  !  "  said  the  ladies. 

*'  One  must  do  something  for  one's  countr}',"  replied 
the  collector. 

He  drew  an  enormous  profit  from  his  carcasses  by 
the  mere  repetition  of  the  words,  ''  I  have  bequeathed 
everything  to  the  town  by  my  will."  Visitors  lauded 
his  philanthropy ;  the  authorities  talked  of  devoting 
the  second  floor  of  the  town  hall  to  the  ''  Gourdon 
Museum,"  after  the  collector's  death. 

''  I  rely  upon  the  gratitude  of  my  fellow-citizens  to 
attach  my  name  to  the  gift,"  he  replied;  "  for  I  dare 
not  hope  they  would  place  a  marble  bust  of  me  —  " 

''  It  would  be  the  very  least  we  could  do  for  you," 
they  rejoined  ;  "  are  3-ou  not  the  glory  of  our  town?" 

Thus  the  man  actually  came  to  consider  himself  one 
of  the  celebrities  of  Burgundy.  The  surest  incomes 
are  not  from  consols  after  all ;  those  our  vanity  ob- 
tains for  us  have  better  security.  This  man  of  science 
was,  to  employ  Lupin's  superlatives,  happy !  happy ! ! 
happy ! ! ! 

Gourdon,  the  clerk  of  the  court,  brother  of  the  doctor, 
was  a  pitiful  little  creature,  whose  features  all  gathered 
about  his  nose,  so  that  the  nose  seemed  the  point  of 
departure  for  the  forehead,  the  cheeks,  and  the  mouth, 
all  of  which  were  connected  with  it  just  as  the  ravines 
of  a  mountain  begin  at  the  summit.  This  pinched 
little  man  was  thought  to  be  one  of  the  greatest  poets 
in  Burgundy,  —  a  Plron,  it  was  the  fashion  to  saj'.  The 
dual  merits  of  the  two  brothers  gave  rise  to  the  re- 
mark:  "  We  have  the  brothers  Gourdon  at  Soulanges, 
—  two  very  distinguished  men ;  men  who  would  hold 
their  own  in  Paris." 

Devoted  to  the  game  of  cup-and-ball,  the  clerk  of  the 


804  Sons  of  the  SoU. 

court  became  possessed  by  another  mania,  —  that  of 
composing  an  ode  in  honor  of  an  amusement  which 
amounted  to  a  passion  in  the  eighteenth  centur}-. 
Manias  among  mediocrats  often  run  in  couples.  Gour- 
don  junior  gave  birth  to  his  poem  during  the  reign  of 
Napoleon.  That  fact  is  sufficient  to  show  the  sound 
and  health}^  school  of  poesy  to  which  he  belonged ; 
Luce  de  Lancival,  Parny,  Saint-Lambert,  Rouche, 
Vigee,  Andrieux,  Berchoux  were  his  heroes.  Delille 
was  his  god,  until  the  daj-  when  the  leading  society  of 
Soulanges  raised  the  question  as  to  whether  Gourdon 
were  not  superior  to  Delille ;  after  which  the  clerk  of 
the  court  alwaj's  called  his  competitor  "Monsieur 
TAbbe  Delille,"  with  exaggerated  politeness. 

The  poems  manufactured  between  1780  and  1814 
were  all  of  one  pattern,  and  the  one  which  Gourdon 
composed  upon  the  Cup-and-Ball  will  give  an  idea  of 
them.  They  required  a  certain  knack  or  proficienc}'  in 
the  art.  "  The  Chorister"  is  the  Saturn  of  this  abor- 
tive generation  of  jocular  poems,  all  in  four  cantos 
or  thereabouts,  for  it  was  generally  admitted  that  six 
would  wear  the  subject  threadbare. 

Gourdon's  poem  entitled  "  Ode  to  the  Cup-and-Ball" 
obeyed  the  poetic  rules  which  governed  these  works, 
rules  that  were  invariable  in  their  application.  Each 
poem  contained  in  the  first  canto  a  description  of  the 
object  sung,  preceded  (as  in  the  case  of  Gourdon)  by 
a  species  of  invocation,  of  which  the  following  is  a 
model :  — 

I  sing  the  good  game  that  belongeth  to  all, 
The  game,  be  it  known,  of  the  Cup  and  the  Ball; 
Dear  to  little  and  great,  to  the  fools  and  the  wise; 
Charming  game!  where  the  cure  of  all  tedium  lies; 


w 


Sons  of  the  Soil  305 

When  we  toss  up  the  ball  on  the  point  of  a  stick 
Palamedus  himself  might  have  envied  the  trick ; 

0  Muse  of  the  Loves  and  the  Laughs  and  the  Games, 
Come  down  and  assist  me,  for,  true  to  your  aims, 

1  have  ruled  off  this  paper  in  syllable  squares. 
Come,  help  me  — 

After  explaining  the  game  and  describing  the  hand- 
somest cup-and-balls  recorded  in  history,  after  relating 
;what  fabulous  custom  it  had  formerly  brought  to  the 
Singe- Vert  and  to  all  dealers  in  toys  and  turned  ivories, 
and  finall}',  after  proving  that  the  game  attained  to 
the  dignity  of  statics,  Gourdon  ended  the  first  canto 
with  the  following  conclusion,  which  will  remind  the 
erudite  reader  of  all  the  conclusions  of  the  first  cantos 
of  all  these  poems  :  — 

'Tis  thus  that  the  arts  and  the  sciences,  too. 
Find  wisdom  in  things  that  seemed  silly  to  you. 

The   second   canto,    invariably  employed   to   depict 
the  manner  of  using  the  object,  explaining  how  to  ex- 
hibit it  in  societ}'  and  before  women,  and  the  benefit 
to  be  derived  therefrom,  will  be  readily  conceived  by 
the  friends  of  this  virtuous  literature  from  the  following 
quotation,  which  depicts  the  player  going  through  his 
performance  under  the  eyes  of  his  chosen  lad}'^ :  — 
Now  look  at  the  player  who  sits  in  your  midst. 
On  that  ivory  ball  how  his  sharp  eye  is  fixt; 
He  waits  and  he  watches  with  keenest  attention, 
Its  least  little  movement  in  all  its  precision; 
The  ball  its  parabola  thrice  has  gone  round, 
At  the  end  of  the  string  to  which  it  is  bound. 
Up  it  goes!  but  the  player  his  triumph  has  missed,    - 
For  the  disc  has  come  down  on  his  maladroit  wrist; 
But  little  he  cares  for  the  sting  of  the  ball, 
A  smile  from  his  mistress  consoles  for  it  all. 


806  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

It  was  this  delineation,  worthy  of  Virgil,  which  first 
roused  a  doubt  as  to  Delille's  superiority  over  Gourdon. 
The  word  disc,  contested  by  the  opinionated  Brunei, 
gave  matter  for  discussions  which  lasted  eleven  months  ; 
in  fact,  until  Gourdon  the  scientist,  one  evening  when 
all  present  were  on  the  point  of  getting  seriously  angiy, 
annihilated  the  anti-discers  by  observing  :  — 

*'The  moon,  called  a  (7isc  by  poets,  is  undoubtedly 
a  ball." 

"  How  do  you  know  that?"  retorted  Brunei.  "  We 
have  never  seen  but  one  side." 

The  third  canto  told  the  regulation  story,  —  in  this  in- 
stance, the  famous  anecdote  of  the  cup-and-ball  which 
all  the  world  knows  b}'  heart,  concerning  a  celebrated 
minister  of  Louis  XVI.  According  to  the  sacred  formula 
delivered  by  the  "Debats"  from  1810  to  1814,  in  praise 
of  these  glorious  works,  Gourdon's  ode  ''  borrowed  fresh 
charms  from  poesy  to  embellish  the  tale." 

The  fourth  canto  summed  up  tlie  whole,  and  con- 
cluded with  these  daring  words,  —  not  published,  be  it 
remarked,    from   1810  to  1814  ;   in  fact,   they  did   not 
see  the  light  till  1824,  after  Napoleon's  death:  — 
'T  was  thus  that  I  sang  in  the  time  of  alarms. 
Oh,  if  kings  would  consent  to  bear  no  other  arms, 
And  people  enjoyed  what  was  best  for  them  all, 
The  sweet  little  game  of  the  Cup  and  the  Ball, 
Our  Burgundy  then  might  be  free  of  all  fear, 
And  return  to  the  good  days  of  Saturn  and  Rhea. 

These  fine  verses  were  published  in  a  first  and  only 
edition  from  the  press  of  Bournier,  printer  of  Ville-aux- 
Faj'cs.  One  hundred  subscribers,  in  the  sum  of  three 
francs,  guaranteed  the  dangerous  precedent  of  immor- 
tality to  the  poem,  —  a  liberality  that  was  all  the  greater 


Sons  of  the  Soil  807 

because  these  luindred  persons  had  heard  the  poem 
from  beginning  to  end  a  hundred  times  over. 

Madame  Soudr}'  had  latel}'  suppressed  the  cup-and- 
ball,  which  usuall}'  lay  on  a  pier-table  in  the  salon  and 
for  tlie  last  seven  years  had  given  rise  to  endless  quo- 
tations, for  she  finally  discovered  in  the  toy  a  rival  to 
her  own  attractions. 

As  to  the  author,  who  boasted  of  future  poems  in 
his  desk,  it  is  enough  to  quote  the  terms  in  which  he 
mentioned  to  the  leading  society  of  Soulanges  a  rival 
candidate  for  literary  honors. 

"  Have  you  heard  a  curious  piece  of  news?"  he  had 
said,  two  years  earlier.  ''There  is  another  poet  in 
Burgundy !  Yes,"  he  added,  remarking  the  astonish- 
ment on  all  faces,  "he  comes  from  Ma^on.  But  you 
could  never  imagine  the  subjects  he  takes  up,  —  a  per- 
fect jumble,  absolutel}"  unintelligible,  —  lakes,  stars, 
waves,  billows !  not  a  single  philosophical  image,  not 
even  a  didactic  effort !  he  is  ignorant  of  the  very  mean- 
ing of  poetry.  He  calls  the  sky  by  its  name.  He  says 
'  moon,'  bluntl}^  instead  of  naming  it  '  the  planet  of 
night.'  That's  what  the  desire  to  be  thought  original 
brings  men  to,"  added  Gourdon,  mournfullj^  "  Poor 
young  man  !  A  Burgundian,  and  sing  such  stuff  as 
that !  —  the  pity  of  it !  If  he  had  only  consulted  me, 
I  would  have  pointed  out  to  him  the  noblest  of  all 
themes,  wine,  —  a  poem  to  be  called  the  Baccheide  ;  for 
which,  alas !    I  now  feel  myself  too  old." 

This  great  poet  is  still  ignorant  of  his  finest  triumph 
(though  he  owes  it  to  the  fact  of  being  a  Burgundian), 
namely,  that  of  living  in  the  town  of  Soulanges,  so 
rounded  and  perfected  within  itself  that  it  knows  noth- 
ing of  the  modern  Pleiades,  not  even  their  names. 


808  Sons  of  the  Soil 

A  hundred  Gourdons  made  poetry  under  the  Empire, 
and  3'et  they  tell  us  it  was  a  period  that  neglected  liter- 
ature !  Examine  the  ''  Journal  de  la  Librairie  "  and  you 
will  find  poems  on  the  game  of  draughts,  on  backgam- 
mon, on  tricks  with  cards,  on  geography,  typography-, 
comedy,  etc.,  —  not  to  mention  the  vaunted  masterpieces 
of  Delille  on  Piet}',  Imagination,  Conversation  ;  and  those 
of  Berchoux  on  Gastromania  and  Dansomania^  etc. 
Who  can  foresee  the  chances  and  changes  of  taste,  the 
caprices  of  fashion,  the  transformations  of  the  human 
mind?  The  generations  as  the}-  pass  along  sweep  out 
of  sight  the  last  fragments  of  the  idols  the}'  found  on 
their  path  and  set  up  other  gods,  —  to  be  overthrown 
like  the  rest. 

Sarcus,  a  handsome  little  man  with  a  dapple-gra}- 
head,  devoted  himself  in  turn  to  Themis  and  to  Flora, 
—  in  other  words,  to  legislation  and  a  greenhouse.  For 
the  last  twelve  years  he  had  been  meditating  a  book  on 
the  History  of  the  Institution  of  Justices  of  the  Peace, 
*'  whose  political  and  judiciarj-  role,"  he  said,  ''  had 
already  passed  through  several  phases,  all  derived  from 
the  Code  of  Brumaire,  year  IV. ;  and  to-day  that  insti- 
tution, so  precious  to  the  nation,  had  lost  its  power 
because  the  salaries  were  not  in  keeping  with  the  im- 
portance of  its  functions,  which  ought  to  be  performed 
by  irremovable  officials."  Rated  in  the  community  as  an 
able  man,  Sarcus  was  the  accepted  statesman  of  Ma- 
dame Soudry's  salon ;  you  can  readily  imagine  that  he 
was  the  leading  bore.  They  said  he  talked  like  a  book. 
Gaubertin  prophesied  he  would  receive  the  cross  of 
the  Legion  of  honor,  but  not  until  the  day  when,  as 
Leclercq's  successor,  he  should  take  his  seat  on  th4 
benches  of  the  Left  Centre. 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  309 

Guerbet,  the  collector,  a  man  of  parts,  a  heav\',  fat, 
individual  with  a  buttcr3'  face,  a  toupet  on  his  bald 
spot,  gold  earrings,  which  were  always  in  difficult}'  with 
his  shirt-collar,  had  the  hobby  of  pomology.  Proud  of 
possessing  the  finest  fruit-garden  in  the  arrondissement, 
he  gathered  his  first  crops  a  month  later  than  those  of 
Paris ;  his  hot-beds  supplied  him  with  pine-apples,  nec- 
tarines, and  peas,  out  of  season.  He  brought  bunches 
of  strawberries  to  Madame  Soudr}'  with  pride  when  the 
fruit  could  be  bought  for  ten  sous  a  basket  in  Paris. 

kSoulanges  possessed  a  pharmaceutist  named  Vermut, 
chemist,  who  was  more  of  a  chemist  than  Sarcus  was 
statesman,  or  Lupin  a  singer,  or  Gourdon  the  elder  a 
scientist,  or  his  brother  a  poet.  Nevertheless,  the  lead- 
ing society  of  Soulanges  did  not  take  much  notice  of 
Vermut,  and  the  second-class  societ}^  took  none  at  all. 
The  instinct  of  the  first  ma}'  have  led  them  to  perceive 
the  real  superiority  of  this  thinker,  who  said  little  but 
smiled  at  their  absurdities  so  satirically  that  they  first 
doubted  his  capacity  and  then  whispered  tales  against 
it;  as  for  the  other  class  they  took  no  notice  of  him 
one  way  or  the  other. 

Vermut  was  the  butt  of  Madame  Soudry's  salon.  No 
society  is  complete  without  a  victim,  —  without  an  ob- 
ject to  pity,  ridicule,  despise,  and  protect.  Vermut,  full 
of  his  scientific  problems,  often  came  with  his  cravat 
untied,  his  waistcoat  unbuttoned,  and  his  little  green 
siirtout  spotted. 

The  little  man,  gifted  with  the  patience  of  a  chemist, 
could  not  enjoy  (that  is  the  term  employed  in  the  pro- 
vinces to  express  the  abolition  of  domestic  rule)  Ma- 
dame Vermut,  —  a  charming  woman,  a  lively  woman, 
capital  company  (for  she  could  lose  forty  sous  at  cards 


310  iSo7is  of  the  Soil. 

and  sa}"  nothing),  a  woman  who  railed  at  her  husband, 
annoyed  him  with  epigrams,  and  declared  him  to  be  an 
imbecile  unable  to  distil  anything  but  dulness.  Madame 
Vermut  was  one  of  those  women  who  in  the  society  of 
a  small  town  are  the  life  and  soul  of  amusement  and 
who  set  things  going.  She  supplied  the  salt  of  her  little 
world,  kitchen-salt,  it  is  true ;  her  jokes  were  some- 
what broad,  but  societ}-  forgave  them  ;  though  she  was 
capable  of  saying  to  the  cure  Taupin,  a  man  of  seventy 
j^ears  of  age,  with  white  hair,  "Hold  your  tongue, 
my  lad." 

The  miller  of  Soulanges,  possessing  an  income  of  fifty 
thousand  francs,  had  an  only  daughter  whom  Lupin  • 
desired  for  his  son  Amaur}',  since  he  had  lost  the 
hope  of  marrying  him  to  Gaubertin's  daughter.  This 
miller,  a  Sarcus-Taupin,  was  the  Nucingen  of  the  little 
town.  He  was  supposed  to  be  thrice  a  millionaire  ;  but 
he  never  transacted  business  with  others,  and  thought 
only  of  grinding  his  wheat  and  keeping  a  monopoly  of 
it ;  his  most  noticeable  point  was  a  total  absence  of  ^ 
politeness  and  good  manners.  T 

The  elder  Guerbet,  brother  of  the  post-master  at 
Conches,  possessed  an  income  of  ten  thousand  francs, 
besides  his  salar}'  as  collector.  The  Gourdons  were 
rich  ;  the  doctor  had  married  the  only  daughter  of  old 
Monsieur  Gendrin-Vatebled,  keeper  of  the  forests  and 
streams,  whom  the  family  were  now  expecting  to  die, 
while  the  poet  had  married  the  niece  and  sole  heiress 
of  the  Abbe  Taupin,  the  curate  of  Soulanges,  a  stout 
priest  who  lived  in  his  cure  like  a  rat  in  his  cheese. 

This  clever  ecclesiastic,  devoted  to  the  leading  so- 
ciet}',  kind  and  obliging  to  the  second,  apostolic  to  the 
poor  and  unfortunate,   made  himself  beloved  by  the 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  311 

whole  town.  He  was  cousin  of  the  miller  and  cousin 
of  tlic  Sarcuses,  and  belonged  therefore  to  the  neigh- 
borhood and  to  its  mediocracy.  He  alwa3's  dined  out 
and  saved  expenses  ;  he  went  to  weddings  but  came 
away  before  the  ball ;  he  paid  the  costs  of  public  wor- 
ship, saying,  "  It  is  m}'  business."  And  the  parish  let 
him  do  it,  with  the  remark,  "We  have  an  excellent 
priest."  The  bishop,  who  knew  the  Soulanges  people 
and  was  not  at  all  misled  as  to  the  true  value  of  the 
abbe,  was  glad  enough  to  keep  in  such  a  town  a  man 
who  made  religion  acceptable,  and  who  knew  how  to 
fill  his  church  and  preach  to  sleepy  heads. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  remark  that  not  only  each  of 
these  worthy  burghers  possessed  some  one  of  the  spe- 
cial qualifications  which  are  necessary  to  existence  in 
the  provinces,  but  also  that  each  cultivated  his  field  in 
the  domain  of  vanity  without  a  rival.  Pere  Guerbet 
understood  finance,  Soudry  might  have  been  minister 
of  war ;  if  Cuvier  had  passed  that  way  incognito,  the 
leading  societ}'  of  Soulanges  would  have  proved  to  him 
that  he  knew  nothing  in  comparison  with  Monsieur 
Gourdon  the  doctor.  "  Adolphe  Nourrit  with  his 
thread  of  a  voice,"  remarked  the  notar}^  with  patroniz- 
ing indulgence,  "  was  scarcely  worthy  to  accompany 
the  nightingale  of  Soulanges."  As  to  the  author  of  the 
"  Cup-and-Ball "  (which  was  then  being  printed  at 
Bournier's),  society  was  satisfied  that  a  poet  of  his  force 
could  not  be  met  with  in  Paris,  for  Delille  was  now 
dead. 

This  provincial  bourgeoisie,  so  comfortabl}^  satisfied 
with  itself,  took  the  lead  through  the  various  superiori- 
ties of  its  members.  Therefore  the  imagination  of 
those  who' ever   resided,  even  for  a  short  time,  in  a 


312  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

little  town  of  this  kind  can  conceive  the  air  of  profound 
satisfaction  upon  the  faces  of  these  people,  who  be- 
lieved themselves  the  solar  plexus  of  France,  all  of  them 
armed  with  incredible  dexterity  and  shrewdness  to  do 
mischief,  — all,  in  their  wisdom,  declaring  that  tlie  hero 
of  Essling  was  a  coward,  Madame  de  Montcornet  a 
manoeuvring  Parisian,  and  the  Abbe  Brossette  an  ambi- 
tious little  priest. 

If  Rigou,  Soudry,  and  Gaubertin  had  lived  at  Ville- 
aux-Fa3"es,  they  would  have  quarrelled ;  their  various 
pretensions  would  have  clashed  ;  but  fate  ordained  that 
the  Lucullus  of  Blangy  felt  too  strongly  the  need  of  soli- 
tude, in  which  to  wallow  at  his  ease  in  usury  and  sen- 
sualit}^,  to  live  anywhere  but  at  Blangy ;  that  Madame 
Soudry  had  sense  enough  to  see  she  could  reign  no- 
where except  at  Soulanges ;  and  that  Ville-aux-Faj^es 
was  Gaubertin's  place  of  business.  Those  who  enjoy 
studying  social  nature  will  admit  that  General  Mont- 
cornet was  pursued  by  special  ill-luck  in  this  accidental 
separation  of  his  dangerous  enemies,  who  thus  accom- 
plished the  evolutions  of  their  individual  power  and 
vanit3^  at  such  distances  from  each  other  that  neither 
star  interfered  with  the  orbit  of  the  other,  —  a  fact  which 
doubled  and  trebled  their  powers  of  mischief. 

Nevertheless,  though  all  these  worthy  bourgeois, 
proud  of  their  accomplishments,  considered  their  so- 
ciet}'  as  far  superior  in  attractions  to  that  of  Ville-aux- 
Fa3'es,  and  repeated  with  comic  pomposity  the  local 
dictum,  "  Soulanges  is  a  town  of  society  and  social 
pleasures,"  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  Ville-aux- 
Fayes  accepted  this  supremacy.  The  Gaubertin  salon 
ridiculed  {in  petto)  the  salon  Soudry.  By  the  manner 
in  which   Gaubertin   remarked,    *'  We   are  a  financial 


Sons  of  the  Soil, 


313 


communit3%  engaged  in  actual  business ;  we  have  the 
folly  to  ftitigue  ourselves  in  making  fortunes,"  it  was 
easy  to  perceive  a  latent  antagonism  between  the  earth 
and  the  moon.  The  moon  believed  herself  useful  to  the 
earth,  and  tlie  earth  governed  the  moon.  Earth  and 
moon,  however,  lived  in  the  closest  intimacy.  At  the 
carnival  the  leading  society  of  Soulanges  went  in  a  bod3' 
to  four  balls  given  by  Gaubertin,  Gendrin,  Leclercq,  and 
Soudr}',  junior.  Ever}'  Sunday  the  latter,  his  wife, 
Monsieur,  Madame,  and  Mademoiselle  Elise  Gaubertin 
dined  with  the  8oudr3's  at  Soulanges.  When  the  sub- 
prefect  was  invited,  and  when  the  postmaster  of  Conches 
arrived  to  take  pot-luck,  Soulanges  enjo3'ed  the  sight  of 
four  official  equipages  drawn  up  at  the  door  of  the 
Soudry  mansion. 


314  Sons  of  the  Soil, 


n. 

THE  CONSPIRATORS  IN  THE  QUEEN'S  SALON. 

Keaching  Soulanges  about  half-past  five  o'clock, 
Rigou  was  sure  of  finding  the  usual  part}'  assembled  at 
the  Soudrys'.  There,  as  everywhere  else  in  town,  the 
dinner-hour  was  three  o'clock,  according  to  the  custom 
of  the  last  century.  From  five  to  nine  the  notables  of 
Soulanges  met  in  Madame  Soudry's  salon  to  exchange 
the  news,  make  their  political  speeches,  comment  upon 
the  private  lives  of  every  one  in  the  valley,  and  talk 
about  Les  Aigues,  which  latter  topic  kept  the  conversa- 
tion going  for  at  least  an  hour  every  da}-.  It  was  every- 
body's business  to  learn  at  least  something  of  what  was 
going  on,  and  also  to  pay  their  court  to  the  mistress  of 
the  house. 

After  this  preliminarj^  talk  the}^  plaj-ed  at  boston, 
the  onl}^  game  the  queen  understood.  When  the  fat 
old  Guerbet  had  mimicked  Madame  Isaure,  Gaubertin's 
wife,  laughed  at  her  languishing  airs,  imitated  her  thin 
voice,  her  pinched  mouth,  and  her  juvenile  ways  ;  when 
the  Abbe  Taupin  had  related  one  of  the  tales  of  his 
repertory  ;  when  Lupin  had  told  of  some  event  at  Ville- 
aux-Fayes,  and  Madame  Soudry  had  been  deluged  with 
compliments  ad  nauseam^  the  company  would  say: 
'*  We  have  had  a  charming  game  of  boston." 

Too  self-indulgent  to  be  at  the  trouble  of  driving  over 
to  the  Soudrys'  merely  to  hear  the  vapid  talk  of  its  visi- 


^  Sons  of  the  Soil  815 

tors  and  to  see  a  Parisian  monkey  in  the  guise  of  an 
old  woman,  Rigou,  far  superior  in  intelligence  and  edu- 
cation to  this  pett}'  societ}',  never  made  his  appearance 
unless  business  brought  him  over  to  meet  the  notary. 
He  excused  himself  from  visiting  on  the  ground  of  his 
occupations,  his  habits,  and  his  health,  which  latter  did 
not  allow  him,  he  said,  to  return  at  night  along  a  road 
which  led  by  the  foggy  banks  of  the  Thune. 

The  tall,  stiff  usurer  always  had  an  imposing  effect 
upon  Madame  Soudry's  compan3',  who  instinctively  rec- 
ognized in  his  nature  the  cruelty  of  the  tiger  with  steel 
claws,  the  craft  of  a  savage,  the  wisdom  of  one  born  iu 
a  cloister  and  ripened  by  the  sun  of  gold,  —  a  man  to 
whom  Gaubertin  had  never  3'et  been  willing  to  fully 
commit  himself. 

The  moment  the  little  green  carriole  and  the  bay 
horse  passed  the  Cafe  de  la  Paix,  Urbain,  Soudry's 
man-servant,  who  was  seated  on  a  bench  under  the 
dining-room  windows,  and  "was  gossippmg  with  the 
tavern-keeper,  shaded  his  eyes  with  his  hand  to  see  who 
was  coming.  • 

*'  It's  Fere  Rigou,"  he  said.  *'  I  must  go  round  and 
open  the  door.  Take  his  horse,  Socquard."  And 
Urbain,  a  former  trooper,  who  could  not  get  into  the 
gendarmerie  and  had  therefore  taken  service  with  Sou- 
dr}^  went  round  the  house  to  open  the  gates  of  the 
courtyard. 

Socquard,  a  famous  personage  throughout  the  valley, 
was  treated,  as  you  see,  with  very  little  ceremou}'  by 
the  valet.  But  so  it  is  with  many  illustrious  people 
who  are  so  kind  as  to  walk  and  to  sneeze  and  to  sleep 
and  to  eat  precisely  like  common  mortals. 

Socquard,  born  a  Hercules,  could  carry  a  weight  of 


316  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

eleven  hundred  pounds  ;  a  blow  of  his  fist  applied  on  a 
man's  back  would  break  the  vertebral  column  in  two ; 
he  could  bend  an  iron  bar,  or  hold  back  a  carriage 
drawn  by  one  horse.  A  Milo  of  Crotona  in  the  valle}', 
his  fame  had  spread  throughout  the  department,  where 
all  sorts  of  foolish  stories  were  current  about  him,  as 
about  all  celebrities.  It  was  told  how  he  had  once  car- 
ried a  poor  woman  and  her  donkey  and  her  basket  on 
his  back  to  market ;  how  he  had  been  known  to  eat  a 
whole  ox  and  drink  the  fourth  of  a  hogshead  of  wine  in 
one  day,  etc.  Gentle  as  a  marriageable  girl,  Socquard, 
who  was  a  stout,  short  man,  with  a  placid  face,  broad 
shoulders,  and  a  deep  chest,  where  his  lungs  played  like 
the  bellows  of  a  forge,  possessed  a  flute-like  voice,  the 
limpid  tones  of  which  surprised  all  those  who  heard 
them  for  the  first  time. 

•  Like  Tonsard,  whose  renown  released  him  from  the 
necessity  of  giving  proofs  of  his  ferocit3',  in  fact,  like  all 
other  men  who  are  backed  by  public  opinion  of  one  kind 
or  another,  Socquard  never  displayed  his  extraordinary 
muscular  force  unless  asked  to  do  so  by  friends.  He 
now  took  the  horse  as  the  usurer  drew  up  at  the  steps 
of  the  portico. 

"Are  you  all  well  at  home,  Monsieur  Kigou?"  said 
the  illustrious  innkeeper. 

''  Pretty  well,  my  good  friend,"  replied  Rigou.  *'  Do 
Plissoud  and  Bonnebault  and  Viollet  and  Amaury  still 
continue  good  customers  ?  " 

The  question,  uttered  in  a  tone  of  good-natured  inter- 
est, was  by  no  means  one  of  those  empt}'  speeches  which 
superiors  are  apt  to  bestow  upon  inferiors.  In  his  leisure 
moments  Rigou  thought  over  the  smallest  details  of  "  the 
affair,"  and  Fourchon  hadalread}'  warned  him  that  there 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  317 

was  something  suspicious  in  the  intimacy  between 
Plissoud,  Bonnebault,  and  the  brigadier,  Viollet. 

Bonnebault,  in  payment  of  a  few  francs  lost  at  cards, 
might  ver}'  liivcly  tell  the  secrets  he  heard  at  Tonsard's 
to  Viollet ;  or  he  might  let  them  out  over  his  punch 
without  realizing  the  importance  of  such  gossip.  But 
as  the  information  of  the  old  otter  man  might  be  in- 
stigated b}'  thirst,  Rigou  paid  no  attention  except  so 
far  as  it  concerned  Plissoud,  whose  situation  was  likely 
to  inspire  him  with  a  desire  to  counteract  the  coaUtion 
against  Les  Aigues,  if  onlj'  to  get  his  paws  greased  by 
one  or  the  other  of  the  two  parties. 

Plissoud  combined  with  his  duties  of  under-sheriff 
other  occupations  which  w^ere  poorly  remunerated,  that 
of  agent  for  insurance  (a  new  form  of  enterprise  just 
beginning  to  show  itself  in  France),  agent,  also,  of  a 
society  providing  against  the  chances  of  recruitment. 
His  insufficient  pay  and  a  love  of  billiards  and  boiled 
wine  made  his  future  doubtful.  Like  Fourchon,  he  cul- 
tivated the  art  of  doing  nothing,  and  expected  his  for- 
tune through  some  lucky  but  problematic  cliance.  He 
hated  the  leading  society,  but  he  had  measured  its 
power.  He  alone  knew  the  middle-class  coalition  or- 
ganized by  Gaubertin  to  its  depths  ;  and  he  continued 
to  sneer  at  the  rich  men  of  Soulanges  and  Ville-aux- 
Fayes,  as  if  he  alone  represented  the  opposition.  With- 
out money  and  not  respected,  he  did  not  seem  a  person 
to  be  feared  professionally-,  and  so  Brunei,  glad  to  have 
a  despised  competitor,  protected  him  and  helped  him 
along,  to  prevent  his  selling  his  business  to  some  eager 
young  man,  like  Bonnac  for  instance,  who  might  force 
him,  Brunei,  to  divide  the  patronage  of  the  canton 
between  them. 


318  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

"  Thanks  to  those  fellows,  we  keep  the  ball  a-roUing," 
said  Socquard.  "But  folks  are  trying  to  imitate  my 
boiled  wine." 

"  Sue  them,"  said  Rigou,  sententious^. 

••'  That  would  lead  too  far,"  replied  the  innkeeper. 

''  Do  your  clients  get  on  well  together?  " 

"  TolerabU",  yes;  sometimes  they'll  have  a  row,  but 
that 's  only  natural  for  players." 

All  heads  were  at  the  window  of  the  Soudry  salon 
which  looked  to  the  square.  Recognizing  the  father 
of  his  daughter-in-law,  Soudry  came  to  the  portico  to 
receive  him. 

"  Well,  comrade,"  said  the  maj'or  of  Soulanges,  "is 
Annette  ill,  that  you  give  us  ^our  company  of  an 
evening?" 

Through  an  old  habit  acquired  in  the  gendarmerie 
Soudr}'  always  went  direct  to  the  point. 

"No, —  There  's  trouble  brewing,"  replied  Rigou, 
touching  his  right  fore-finger  to  the  hand  which  Sou- 
dr}'  held  out  to  him.  "I  came  to  talk  about  it,  for  it 
concerns  our  children  in  a  wa}'  — " 

Soudrj^,  a  handsome  man  dressed  in  blue,  as  though  he 
were  still  a  gendarme,  with  a  black  collar,  and  spurs  at 
his  heels,  took  Rigou  by  the  arm  and  led  him  up  to  his 
imposing  better-half.  The  glass  door  to  the  terrace  was 
open,  and  the  guests  were  walking  about  enjoying  the 
summer  evening,  which  brought  out  the  full  beauty  of 
the  glorious  landscape  which  we  have  alread}'  described. 

"  It  is  a  long  time  since  we  have  seen  3'ou,  my  dear 
Rigou,"  said  Madame  Soudry,  taking  the  arm  of  the 
ex-Benedictine  and  leading  him  out  upon  the  terrace. 

"  M}'  digestion  is  so  troublesome!"  he  replied; 
*'  see  !   mv  color  is  almost  as  lii<>h  as  vours." 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  319 

Rigou's  appearance  on  the  teiTace  was  the  sign  for 
ail  explosion  of  jovial  greetings  on  the  part  of  the 
ussembled  conipan3'. 

"  And  how  ma}'  the  lord  of  Blangy  be?"  said  little 
Sarcus,  justice  of  the  peace. 

''Lord!"  replied  Rigou,  bitterly,  *' I  am  not  even 
cock  of  ni}^  own  village  now." 

"  The  hens  don't  say  so,  scamp  !  "  exclaimed  Madame 
Soudr}',  tapping  her  fan  on  his  arm. 

"  All  well,  my  dear  master?  "  said  the  notary,  bow- 
ing to  his  chief  client. 

*'  Frett}'  well,"  replied  Rigou,  again  putting  his  fore- 
finger into  his  interlocutor's  hand. 

This  gesture,  by  which  Rigou  kept  down  the  process 
of  hand-shaking  to  the  coldest  and  stiffest  of  demon- 
strations would  have  revealed  the  whole  man  to  any 
observer  who  did  not  already  know  him. 

"  Let  us  find  a  corner  where  we  can  talk  quietly,"  said 
the  ex-monk,  looking  at  Lupin  and  at  Madame  Soudry. 

"  Let  us  return  to  the  salon,"  replied  the  queen. 

*'  What  has  the  Shopman  done  now?  "  asked  Soudry, 
sitting  down  beside  his  wife  and  putting  his  arm  about 
her  waist. 

Madame  Soudry,  like  other  old  women,  forgave  a 
great  deal  in  return  for  such  public  marks  of  tenderness. 

''  Why,"  said  Rigou,  in  a  low  voice,  to  set  an  exam- 
l)le  of  caution,  "  he  has  gone  to  the  Prefecture  to 
demand  the  enforcement  of  the  penalties  ;  he  wants  the 
help  of  the  authorities." 

''Then  he's  lost,"  said  Lupin,  rubbing  his  hands; 
"  the  peasants  will  fight." 

"Fight!"  cried  Soudry,  "that  depends.  If  the 
prefect   and    the    general,   who    are    friends,    send   a 


320  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

squadron  of  cavaliy  the  peasants  can't  fight.  They 
might  at  a  pinch  get  the  better  of  the  gendarmes,  but 
as  for  resisting  a  charge  of  cavalry !  —  " 

''Sibilet  heard  him  sa}^  something  much  more  dan- 
gerous than  that,"  said  Rigou  ;  "  and  that 's  what  brings 
me  here." 

''Oh,  my  poor  Sophie!"  cried  Madame  Soudr}^, 
sentimentally',  alluding  to  her  friend.,  Mademoiselle 
Laguerre,  ''into  what  hands  Les  Aigues  has  fallen! 
This  is  what  we  have  gained  by  the  Revolution !  —  a 
parcel  of  swaggering  epaulets !  We  might  have  fore- 
seen that  whenever  the  bottle  was  turned  upside  down 
the  dregs  would  spoil  the  wine !  " 

"  He  means  to  go  to  Paris  and  cabal  with  the  Keeper 
of  the  Seals  and  others  to  get  the  whole  judiciary 
changed  down  here,"  said  Rigou. 

"  Ha !  "  cried  Lupin,  "  then  he  sees  his  danger." 

"  If  they  appoint  my  son-in-law  attorney-general  we 
can't  help  ourselves  ;  tlie  general  will  get  him  replaced 
b}^  some  Parisian  devoted  to  his  interests,"  continued 
Rigou.  "  If  he  gets  a  place  in  Paris  for  Gendrin  and 
makes  Guerbet  chief-justice  of  the  court  at  Auxerre, 
he  '11  knock  down  our  skittles !  The  gendarmerie  is 
on  his  side  now,  and  if  he  gets  the  courts  as  well,  and 
keeps  such  advisers  as  the  abbe  and  Michaud  we  shan't 
dance  at  the  wedding  ;  he  '11  play  us  some  scurvy  trick 
or  other." 

"  How  is  it  that  in  all  these  five  years  you  have 
never  managed  to  get  rid  of  that  abbe?"  said  Lupin. 

*' You  don't  know  him;  he's  as  suspicious  as  a 
blackbird,"  replied  Rigou.  "He  is  not  a  man  at  all, 
that  priest ;  he  does  n't  care  for  women  ;  I  can't  find 
out  that  he  has  any  passion  ;   there  's  no  point  at  which 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  321 

one  can  attack  him.  The  general  lays  himself  open  by 
his  temper.  A  man  with  a  vice  is  the  servant  of  his 
enemies  if  thej'  know  how  to  pull  its  string.  There  are 
no  strong  men  but  those  who  lead  their  vices  instead  of 
being  led  by  them.  The  peasants  are  all  right ;  their 
hatred  against  the  abbe  keeps  up ;  but  we  can  do 
nothing  as  yet.  He  's  like  Michaud,  in  his  way  ;  such 
men  are  too  good  for  this  world,  —  God  ought  to  call 
them  to  himself." 

'*  It  would  be  a  good  plan  to  find  some  pretty 
servant-girl  to  scrub  his  staircase,"  remarked  Ma- 
dame Soudry.  The  words  caused  Rigou  to  give  the 
little  jump  with  which  crafty  natures  recognize  the  craft 
of  others. 

**  The  Shopman  has  another  vice,"  he  said;  "he 
loves  his  wife ;  we  might  get  hold  of  him  that  way." 

''  We  ought  to  find  out  how  far  she  really  influences 
him,"  said  Madame  Soudry. 

"  There 's  the  rub  !  "  said  Lupin. 

"  As  for  3'ou,  Lupin,"  said  Rigou,  in  a  tone  of  au- 
thority, ''  be  oflT  to  the  Prefecture  and  see  the  beautiful 
Madame  Sarcus  at  once  !  You  must  get  her  to  tell  3'ou 
all  the  Shopman  sa3'S  and  does  at  the  Prefecture." 

*'  Then  I  shall  have  to  stay  all  night,"  replied  Lupin. 

**  So  much  the  better  for  Sarcus  the  rich ;  he  '11  be 
the  gainer,"  said  Rigou.  ''  She  is  not  yet  out  of  date, 
Madame  Sarcus  —  " 

**0h!  Monsieur  Rigou,"  said  Madame  Soudry,  in  a 
mincing  tone,   "are  women  ever  out  of  date?" 

*'  You  may  be  right  about  Madame  Sarcus  ;  she 
does  n't  paint  before  the  glass,"  retorted  Rigou,  who 
was  always  disgusted  b^'  the  exhibition  of  the  Cochet's 
ancient  charms. 

'     21 


322  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

Madame  Soudry,  who  thought  she  used  only  a  "  sus- 
picion "  of  rouge,  did  not  perceive  the  sarcasm  and 
hastened  to  sa}' :  — 

"  Is  it  possible  that  women  paint?  " 

"  Xow,  Lupin,"  said  Rigou,  without  replying  to  this 
naivete,  "  go  over  to  Gaubertin's  to-morrow  morning. 
Tell  him  that  my  fellow-mayor  and  1 "  (striking  Soudry 
on  the  thigh)  ' '  will  break  bread  with  him  at  breakfast 
somewhere  about  midday.  Tell  him  everytliing,  so 
that  we  may  all  have  thought  it  over  before  we  meet, 
for  now's  the  time  to  make  an  end  of  that  damned 
Shopman.  As  I  drove  over  here  I  came  to  the  con- 
clusion it  would  be  best  to  get  up  a  quarrel  between 
the  courts  and  him,  so  that  the  Keeper  of  the  Seals 
would  be  wary  of  making  the  changes  he  ma}'  ask  in 
their  members." 

"Bravo  for  the  son  of  the  Church!"  cried  Lupin, 
slapping  Rigou  on  the  shoulder. 

Madame  Soudry  was  here  struck  by  an  idea  which 
could  come  only  to  a  former  waiting-maid  of  an  Opera 
divinitN'. 

"  If,"  she  said,  "  one  could  only  get  the  Shopman  to 
the  fete  at  Soulanges,  and  throw  some  fine  girl  in  his 
way  who  would  turn  his  head,  we  could  easily  set  his 
wife  against  him  by  letting  her  know  that  the  son  of 
an  upholsterer  has  gone  back  to  the  style  of  his  early 
loves." 

"Ah,  my  beauty!"  said  Soudry,  "you  have  more 
sense  in  your  head  than  the  Prefecture  of  police  in 
Paris." 

"  That 's  an  idea  which  proves  that  Madame  reigns  by 
mind  as  well  as  b}'  beauty,"  said  Lupin,  who  was  re- 
warded by  a  grimace  which  the  leading  society  of  Sou- 


Sons  of  the  Soil. 


323 


langes  were  in  the  habit  of  accepting  without  protest 
for  a  smile. 

"  One  might  do  better  still,"  said  Rigou,  after  some 
thought;  '*  if  we  could  only  turn  it  into  a  downright 
scandal." 

*' Complaint  and  indictment!  affair  in  the  police 
court!  "  cried  Lupin.     "  Oh  !  that  would  be  grand  !  " 

*'  Glorious  !  "  said  Soudrj',  candid!}'.  "  What  happi- 
ness to  see  the  Comte  de  Montcornet,  grand  cross  of 
the  Legion  of  honor,  commander  of  the  Order  of  Saint 
Louis,  and  lieutenant-general,  accused  of  having  at- 
tempted, in  a  public  resort,  the  virtue — just  thinii 
of  it !  " 

*'  He  loves  his  wife  too  well,"  said  Lupin,  reflec- 
tively.    ''  He  could  n't  be  got  to  that." 

*' That's  no  obstacle,"  remarked  Rigou;  "but  I 
don't  know  a  single  girl  in  the  whole  arrondissement 
"who  is  capable  of  making  a  sinner  of  a  saint.  I  have 
been  looking  out  for  one  for  the  abbe." 

''  What  do  you  saj'  to  that  handsome  Gatienne 
Giboulard,  of  Auxerre,  whom  Sarcus,  junior,  is  mad 
after?"  asked  Lupin. 

*' That's  the  only  one,"  answered  Rigou,  "but  she 

not  suitable ;  she  thinks  she  has  only  to  be  seen  to 
admired  ;  she 's  not  complying  enough ;  we  want  a 
ritch  and  a  sl3'-boot8,  too.  Never  mind,  the  right  one 
rill  turn  up  sooner  or  later." 

"Yes,"  said  Lupin,  "the  more  pretty- girls  he  sees 
le  greater  the  chances  are." 

"  But  perhaps  you  can't  get  the  Shopman  to  the 
lir,"  said  the  ex-gendarme.  "  And  if  he  does  come, 
rill  he  go  to  the  Tivoli  ball?" 

"The  reason  that  has  always  kept  him  away  from 


324  Sons  of  the  Soil 

the  fair  does  n't  exist  this  3'ear,  m}^  love,"  said  Madame 
Soudry. 

'^  What  reason,  dearest?  "  asked  Soudr}^ 

"The  Shopman  wanted  to  marry  Mademoiselle  de 
Soulanges,"  said  the  notary.  "  The  famil}-  replied  that 
she  was  too  young,  and  that  mortified  him.  That  is 
wh}-  Monsieur  de  Soulanges  and  Monsieur  de  Mont- 
cornet,  two  old  friends  who  both  served  in  the  Imperial 
Guard,  are  so  cool  to  each  other  that  they  never  speak. 
The  Shopman  does  n't  want  to  meet  the  Soulanges  at 
the  fair ;  but  this  year  the  famil}^  are  not  coming." 

Usuall}^  the  Soulanges  party  sta^-ed  at  the  chateau 
from  July  to  October,  but  the  general  was  then  in 
command  of  the  artillery  in  Spain,  under  the  Due  d'An- 
gouleme,  and  the  countess  had  accompanied  him.  At 
the  siege  of  Cadiz  the  Comte  de  Soulanges  obtained,  as 
every  one  knows,  the  marshal's  baton,  which  he  kept 
till  1826. 

"Very  true,"  cried  Lupin.  ''Well,  it  is  for  5'ou, 
papa,"  he  added,  addressing  Rigou,  "  to  manoeuvre 
the  matter  so  that  we  can  get  him  to  the  fair;  once 
there,  we  ought  to  be  able  to  entrap  him." 

The  fair  of  Soulanges,  which  takes  place  on  the  15th 
of  August,  is  one  of  the  features  of  tlie  town,  and 
carries  the  palm  over  all  other  fairs  in  a  circuit  of 
sixty  miles,  even  those  of  tlie  capital  of  the  department. 
Ville-aux-Fayes  has  no  fair,  for  its  fete-day,  the  Saint- 
Sylvestre,  happens  in  winter. 

From  the  V2th.  to  the  15th  of  August  all  sorts  of  mer- 
chants abounded  at  Soulanges,  and  set  up  their  booths 
in  two  parallel  lines,  two  rows  of  the  well-known  gray 
linen  huts,  whicli  gave  a  lively  appearance  to  the  usually 
deserted  streets.     The  two  weeks  of  the  fair  brought  in 


m"' 


Sons  of  the  Soil  325 

a  sort  of  harvest  to  the  little  town,  for  the  festival  has 
the  authority  and  prestige  of  tradition.  The  peasants, 
as  old  Foiirchon  said,  flocked  in  from  the  districts  to 
which  labor  bound  them  for  the  rest  of  the  3'ear.  The 
wonderful  show  on  the  counters  of  the  improvised  shops, 
the  collection  of  all  sorts  of  merchandise,  the  coveted 
objects  of  the  wants  or  the  vanities  of  these  sons  of  the 
soil,  who  have  no  other  shows  or  exhibitions  to  enjoy, 
exercise  a  periodical  seduction  over  the  minds  of  all, 
especially  the  women  and  children.  So,  after  the  first 
of  August  the  authorities  posted  advertisements  signed 
by  Soudrj-,  throughout  the  whole  arrondissement,  offer- 
ing protection  to  merchants,  jugglers,  mountebanks, 
prodigies  of  all  kinds,  and  stating  how  long  the  fair 
would  last,  and  what  would  be  its  principal  attractions. 

On  these  posters,  about  which  it  will  be  remembered 
Madame  Tonsard  inquired  of  Vermichel,  there  was  al- 
ways, on  the  last  line,  the  following  announcement : 

"  Tivoli  will  be  illuminated  with  colored-glass  lamps." 

The  town  had  adopted  as  the  place  for  public  balls  a 
dance-ground  created  by  Socquard  out  of  a  stony  gar- 
den (stony,  like  the  rest  of  the  hill  on  which  Sou- 
langes  is  built,  where  the  gardens  are  of  made  land), 
and  called  by  him  a  Tivoli.  This  character  of  the  soil 
explains  the  peculiar  flavor  of  the  Soulanges  wine,  —  a 
white  wine,  drj-  and  spirituous,  very  like  Madeira  or 
the  Vouvray  wine,  or  Johannisberger,  —  three  vintages 
which  resemble  one  another. 

The  powerful  effect  produced  b}^  the  Socquard  ball 
upon  the  imaginations  of  the  whole  countr^'-side  made 
the  inhabitants  thereof  very  proud  of  their  Tivoli. 
Such  as  had  ventured  as  far  as  Paris  declared  that  the 
Parisian  Tivoli  was  superior  to  that  of  Soulanges  only 


326  Sons  of  the  Soil 

in  size.  Gaubertin  boldly  declared  that,  for  bis  part, 
he  preferred  the  Socquard  ball  to  the  Parisian  ball. 

"Well,  we'll  think  it  all  over,"  continued  Rigou. 
"  That  Parisian  fellow,  the  editor  of  a  newspaper,  will 
soon  get  tired  of  his  present  amusement  and  be  glad 
of  a  change ;  perhaps  we  could  through  the  servants 
give  him  the  idea  of  coming  to  the  fair,  and  he  'd  bring 
the  others  ;  I  '11  consider  it.  Sibilet  might  —  although, 
to  be  sure,  his  influence  is  devilishly  decreased  of  late 
— but  he  might  get  the  general  to  think  he  could  curry 
popularity  by  coming." 

"  Find  out  if  the  beautiful  countess  keeps  the  gen- 
eral at  arm's  length,"  said  Lupin;  "that's  the  point 
if  3^ou  want  him  to  fall  into  the  farce  at  Tivoli." 

"  That  little  woman,"  cried  Madame  Soudry,  "  is  too 
much  of  a  Parisian  not  to  know  how  to  run  with  the 
hare  and  hold  with  the  hounds." 

"  Fourchon  has  got  his  granddaughter  Catherine  on 
good  terms,  he  tells  me,  with  Charles,  the  Shopman's 
groom.  That  gives  us  one  ear  more  in  Les  Aigues  — 
Are  you  sure  of  the  Abbe  Taupin,"  he  added,  as  the 
priest  entered  the  room  from  the  terrace. 

"  We  hold  him  and  the  Abbe  Moucheron,  too,  just 
as  I  hold  Soudry,"  said  the  queen,  stroking  her  hus- 
band's chin ;  ' '  3-ou  are  not  unhappy,  dearest,  are 
you?"  she  said  to  Soudry. 

"  If  I  can  plan  a  scandal  against  that  Tartufe  of  a 
a  Brossette  we  can  win,"  said  Rigou,  in  a  low  voice. 
"  But  I  am  not  sure  if  the  local  spirit  can  succeed 
against  the  Church  spirit.  You  don't  realize  what  that 
is.  I,  myself,  who  am  no  fool,  I  can't  say  what  I'll 
do  when  I  fall  ill.  I  believe  I  shall  try  to  be  reconciled 
with  the  Church." 


Sons  of  the  Soil. 


327 


*'  Suffer  me  to  hope  it,"  said  the  Abbe  Taupin,  for 
whose  benefit  Rigou  had  raised  his  voice  on  the  last 
words. 

*'Alas!  the  wrong  I  did  in  marrying  prevents  it," 
replied  Rigou.     ''  I  cannot  kill  off  Madame  Rigou." 

'*  Meantime,  let  us  think  of  Les  Aigues,"  said  Ma- 
dame Soudry. 

*'  Yes,"  said  the  ex-monk.  ''  Do  3'ou  know,  I  begin 
to  think  that  our  associate  at  Ville-aux-Fajes  may  be 
cleverer  than  the  rest  of  us.  I  fancy  that  Gaubertin 
wants  Les  Aigues  for  himself,  and  that  he  means  to 
trick  us  in  the  end." 

*'  But  Les  Aigues  will  not  belong  to  any  one  of  us  ; 
it  will  have  to  come  down,  from  roof  to  cellar,"  said 
Soudry. 

*'  I  should  n't  be  surprised  if  there  were  treasure 
buried  in  those  cellars,"  observed  Rigou,  cleverly. 

"  Nonsense !  " 

"  Well,  in  the  wars  of  the  olden  time  the  great  lords, 
who  were  often  besieged  and  surprised,  did  bury  their 
gold  until  they  should  be  able  to  recover  it ;  and  you 
know  that  the  Marquis  de  Soulanges-Hautemer  (in 
whom  the  younger  branch  came  to  an  end)  was  one  of 
the  victims  of  the  Biron  conspiracy.  The  Comtesse  de 
Moret  received  the  property  from  Henri  IV.  when  it 
was  confiscated." 

"  See  what  it  is  to  know  the  history  of  France!" 
said  Soudr}'.  ''  You  are  right.  It  is  time  to  come  to 
an  understanding  with  Gaubertin." 

''If  he  shirks,"  said  Rigou,  ''  we  must  smoke  him 
out." 

*'  He  is  ri(;h  enough  now,"  said  Lupin,  "  to  be  an 
honest  man." 


328  tSons  of  the  Soil. 


(( 


I'll  answer  for  him  as  I  would  for  ni3'self,"  said 
Madame  Soudry ;  ''he's  the  most  loyal  man  in  the 
kingdom." 

''  We  all  believe  in  his  lo3'alty,"  said  Rigou,  "  but 
nevertheless  nothing  should  be  neglected,  even  among 
friends  —  By  the  bj'e,  I  think  there  is  some  one  in 
Soulanges  who  is  hindering  matters." 

"  Who's  that?"  asked  Soudry. 

"  Plissoud,"  replied  Rigou. 

"  Plissoud  !  "  exclaimed  Soudry.  "  Poor  fool !  Bru- 
nei holds  hira  by  the  halter,  and  his  wife  by  the  gullet ; 
ask  Lupin." 

"  What  can  he  do?  "  said  Lupin. 

*'  He  means  to  warn  Montcornet,"  replied  Rigou, 
"and  get  his  influence  and  a  place  — " 

"  It  would  n't  bring  him  in  more  than  his  wife  earns 
for  him  at  Soulanges,"  said  Madame  Soudry. 

"  He  tells  everything  to  his  wife  when  he  is  drunk," 
remarked  Lupin.  "  We  shall  know  it  all  in  good 
time." 

"The  beautiful  Madame  Plissoud  has  no  secrets 
from  3'ou,"  said  Rigou  ;  ''  we  may  be  eas}^  about  that." 

"  Besides,  she's  as  stupid  as  she  is  beautiful,"  said 
Madame  Soudry.  "  I  would  n't  change  with  her;  for 
if  I  were  a  man  I'd  prefer  an  ugly  woman  who  has 
some  mind,  to  a  beaut}'  who  can't  say  two  words." 

"Ah!"  said  the  notary,  biting  his  lips,  "but  she 
can  make  others  say  three." 

"  Puppy ! "  cried  Rigou,  as  he  made  for  the  door. 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Soudry,  following  him  to  the 
portico,  "  to-morrow,  earl}'." 

"  I  '11  come  and  fetch  3'ou  —  Ha  !  Lupin,"  he  said 
to  the  notary,  who  came   out  with   him  to  order  his 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  829 

horse,  "  try  to  make  sure  that  Madame  Sarcus  hears 
all  the  Shopman  says  and  does  against  us  at  the 
Prefecture." 

"If  she  does  n't  hear  it,  who  will?  "  replied  Lupin. 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  Rigou,  smiling  blandl}^  "  but 
there  are  such  a  lot  of  ninnies  in  there  that  I  forgot 
there  was  one  clever  man." 

**The  wonder  is  that  I  don't  grow  rusty  among 
them,"  replied  Lupin,  naively. 

"Is  it  true  that  Soudry  has  hired  a  pretty  servant?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Lupin  ;  "for  the  last  week  our  wor- 
'  th}^  maj^or  has  set  the  charms  of  his  wife  in  full  relief 
b}^  comparing  her  with  a  little  peasant-girl  about  the 
age  of  an  old  ox  ;  and  we  can't  yet  imagine  how  he  set- 
tles it  with  Madame  Soudry,  for,  would  you  believe  it, 
he  has  the  audacity  to  go  to  bed  early." 

"  I  '11  find  out  to-morrow,"  said  the  village  Sardana- 
palus,  trying  to  smile. 

I  The  two  plotters  shook  hands  as  they  parted. 
Rigou,  who  did  not  like  to  be  on  the  road  after  dark 
r,  notwithstanding   his   present  popularity,    he   was 
cautious,  called  to  his  horse,  "  Get  up,  Citizen," — a 
joke  this  son  of  1793  was  fond  of  letting  fly  at  the  Revo- 
!    lution.   Popular  revolutions  have  no  more  bitter  enemies 
than  those  they  have  trained  themselves. 

"  Pere  Rigou's  visits  are  pretty  short,"  said  Gourdon 
the  poet  to  Madame  Soudry. 

"They  are  pleasant,  if  they  are  short,"  she  an- 
swered. 

"  Like  his  own  life,''  said  the  doctor;  "  his  abuse  of 
pleasures  will  cut  that  short." 

"So  much  the  better,"  remarked  Soudry,  "  my  son 
will  step  into  the  property." 


330  fSons  of  the  Soil 

*'Did  he  bring  you  any  news  about  Les  Aigues?" 
asked  the  Abbe  Taupin. 

"  Yes,  niy  dear  abbe,"  said  Madame  Soudr3\  "  Those 
people  are  the  scourge  of  the  neighborhood.  I  can't 
comprehend  how  it  is  that  Madame  de  Montcornet,  who 
is  certainly  a  well-bred  woman,  does  n't  understand  their 
interests  better." 

' '  And  yet  she  has  a  model  before  her  eyes,"  said  the 
abbe. 

"  Who  is  that?  "  asked  Madame  Soudry,  smirking. 

"The  Soulanges." 

''  Ah,  yes  !  "  repUed  the  queen  after  a  pause. 

"  Here  I  am  !  "  cried  Madame  Vermut,  coming  into 
the  room;  ''and  without  my  re-active,  —  for  Vermut 
is  so  inactive  in  all  that  concerns  me  that  I  can't  call 
him  an  active  of  any  kind." 

"  What  the  devil  is  that  cursed  old  Rigou  doing 
there?"  said  Soudry  to  Guerbet,  as  they  saw  the  green 
chaise  stop  before  the  gate  of  the  Tivoli.  "He  is  one 
of  those  tiger-cats  whose  every  step  has  an  object." 

"You  may  well  say  cursed,"  replied  the  fat  little 
collector." 

"  He  has  gone  into  the  Cafe  de  la  Paix,"  remarked 
Gourdon,  the  doctor. 

"And  there's  some  trouble  there,"  added  Gourdon 
the  poet ;  "  I  can  hear  them  yelping  from  here." 

"That  cafe,"  said  the  abb6,  "is  Uke  the  temple  of 
Janus ;  it  was  called  the  Cafe  de  la  Guerre  under  the 
Empire,  and  then  it  was  peace  itself;  the  naost  respect- 
able of  the  bourgeoisie  met  there  for  conversation  —  " 

"  Conversation  !  "  interrupted  the  justice  of  the  peace. 
"  What  kind  of  conversation  was  it  which  produced  all 
the  little  Bourniers?" 


Sons  of  the  Soil  331 

''  — but  ever  since  it  has  been  called,  in  honor  of  the 
Bourbons,  the  Cafe  de  la  Paix,  fights  take  place  there 
ever}"  day,"  said  Abbe  Taupin,  finishing  the  sentence 
which  the  magistrate  had  taken  the  liberty  of  inter- 
rupting. 

This  idea  of  the  abbe  was,  like  the  quotations  from 
*'  The  Cup-and-Ball,"  of  frequent  recurrence. 

*'  Do  you  mean  that  Burgund}'  will  always  be  the 
land  of  fisticuffs  ? "  asked  Pere  Guerbet. 

'*  That's  not  ill  said,"  remarked  the  abbe;  "  not  at 
all ;  in  fact  it 's  almost  an  exact  history  of  our  country." 

**  I  don't  know  anything  about  the  history  of  France,'* 
blurted  Soudry  ;  "  and  before  I  try  to  learn  it,  it  is  more 
important  for  me  to  know  wh}'  old  Rigou  has  gone  into 
the  Cafe  de  la  Paix  with  Socquard." 

"Oh!"  returned  the  abbe,  "wherever  he  goes  and 
wherever  he  stays,  you  may  be  quite  certain  it  is  for  no 
charitable  purpose." 

"That  man  gives  me  goose-flesh  whenever  I  see 
him,"  said  Madame  Vermut. 

"  He  is  so  much  to  be  feared,"  remarked  the  doctor, 
"  that  if  he  had  a  spite  against  me  T  should  have  no 
peace  till  he  was  dead  and  buried ;  he  would  get  out  of 
his  coffin  to  do  you  an  ill- turn." 

"  If  any  one  can  force  the  Shopman  to  come  to  the 
fair,  and  manage  to  catch  him  in  a  trap,  it  '11  be  Rigou," 
said  Soudry  to  his  wife,  in  a  low  tone. 

"  Especiall}^"  she  replied,  in  a  loud  one,  "if  Gauber- 
tin  and  you,  my  love,  help  him." 

"  There  !  did  n't  I  tell  3'ou  so?  "  cried  Guerbet,  pok- 
ing the  justice  of  the  peace.  "  I  knew  he  would  find 
some  prett}^  girl  at  Socquard's,  —  there  he  is,  putting 
her  into  his  carriage." 


332  Sons  of  the  Soil 

''You  are  quite  wrong,  gentlemen,"  said  Madame 
Soudry ;  "  Monsieur  Rigou  is  thinking  of  notliing  but 
the  great  affair ;  and  if  I  'm  not  mistaken,  that  girl  is 
onl}^  Tonsard's  daughter." 

*'  He  is  like  the  chemist  who  la3's  in  a  stock  of  vipers," 
said  old  Guerbet. 

"  One  would  think  you  were  intimate  with  Monsieur 
Vermut  to  hear  jou  talk,"  said  the  doctor,  pointing  to  the 
little  apothecary,  who  was  then  crossing  the  square. 

"  Poor  fellow  !  "  said  the  poet,  who  was  suspected  of 
occasionalh^  sharpening  his  wit  with  Madame  Vermut ; 
"just  look  at  that  waddle  of  his!  and  they  say  he  is 
learned !  " 

"  Without  him,"  said  the  justice  of  the  peace,  "  we. 
should  be  hard  put  to  it  about  post-mortems  ;  he  found 
poison  in  poor  Pigeron's  stomach  so  cleverly  that  the 
chemists  of  Paris  testified  in  the  court  at  Auxerre  that 
they  could  n't  have  done  better  —  " 

"He  didn't  find  anything  at  all,"  said  Soudry; 
"  but,  as  President  Gendrin  says,  it  is  a  good  thing  to 
let  people  suppose  that  poison  will  always  be  found  —" 

"  Madame  Pigeron  was  very  wise  to  leave  Auxerre," 
said  Madame  Vermut;  "she  was  silly  and  wicked 
both.  As  if  it  were  necessary  to  have  recourse  to  drugs 
to  annul  a  husband !  Are  not  there  other  ways  quite 
as  sure,  but  innocent,  to  rid  ourselves  of  that  incum- 
brance? I  would  like  to  have  a  man  dare  to  question 
my  conduct !  The  worthy  Monsieur  Vermut  does  n't 
hamper  me  in  the  least, —  but  he  has  never  been  ill  yet. 
As  for  Madame  de  Montcornet,  just  see  how  she  walks 
about  the  woods  and  the  hermitage  with  that  journalist 
whom  she  brought  from  Paris  at  her  own  expense,  and 
how  she  pets  him  under  the  very  eyes  of  the  general  I  " 


tSons  of  the  Soil  3S^3 

*'  At  her  own  expense  ! "  cried  Madame  Sondry. 
"Are  you  sure  ?  If  we  could  only  get  proof  of  it, 
what  a  fine  subject  for  an  anonj'mous  letter  to  the 
general !  " 

"The  general!"  cried  Madame  Vermut,  "he  won't 
interfere  with  things ;    he  plays  his  part." 

"  What  part,  m}'  dear?  "  asked  Madame  Soudry. 

"  Oh  !  the  paternal  part." 

"  If  poor  little  Pigeron  had  had  the  wisdom  to  play 
it,  instead  of  harassing  his  wife,  he  'd  be  alive  now," 
said  the  poet. 

Madame  Soudry  leaned  over  to  her  neighbor,  Mon- 
sieur Guerbet,  and  made  one  of  those  apish  grimaces 
which  she  had  inherited  from  dear  mistress,  together 
with  her  silver,  by  right  of  conquest,  and  twisting  her 
face  into  a  series  of  them  she  made  him  look  at  Madame 
Vermut,  who  was  coquetting  with  the  author  of  "The 
Cup-and-Ball." 

".What  shocking  style  that  woman  has  I  what  talk, 
what  manners!"  she  said.  "I  really  don't  think  I 
can  admit  her  any  longer  into  our  society,  —  espe- 
ciall}',"  she  added,  "when  Monsieur  Gourdon,  the  poet, 
is  present." 

"  There's  social  morality  !  "  said  the  abbe,  who  had 
heard  and  observed  all  without  saying  a  word. 

After  this  epigram,  or  rather,  this  satire  on  the  com- 
pany, so  true  and  so  concise  that  it  hit  every  one,  the 
usual  game  of  boston  was  proposed. 

Is  not  this  a  picture  of  life  as  it  is  at  all  stages  of 
what  we  agree  to  call  society  ?  Change  the  style,  and 
you  will  find  that  nothing  more  and  nothing  less  is 
said  in  the  gilded  salons  of  Paris. 

UNIVERSITY 

./FORNIX- 


834  Sons  of  the  Soil 

III. 

THE  CAF6  DE  la  PAIX. 

It  was  about  seven  o'clock  when  Rigou  drove  b}'  the 
Cafe  de  la  Paix.  The  setting  sun,  slanting  its  beams 
across  the  little  town,  was  diffusing  its  rudd}'  tints,  and 
the  clear  mirror  of  the  lake  contrasted  with  the  flashing 
of  the  resplendent  window-panes,  which  originated  the 
strangest  and  most  improbable  colors. 

The  deep  schemer,  who  had  grown  pensive  as  he 
revolved  his  plots,  let  his  horse  proceed  so  slowly  that 
in  passing  the  Cafe  de  la  Paix  he  heard  his  own  name 
banded  about  in  one  of  those  noisj^  disputes  which,  ac- 
cording to  the  Abbe  Taupin,  made  the  name  of  the 
establishment  a  gain-saying  of  its  customar)-  condition. 

For  a  clear  understanding  of  the  following  scene  we 
must  explain  the  topography  of  this  region  of  plent}^ 
and  of  misrule,  which  began  with  the  cafe  on  the 
square,  and  ended  on  the  country  road  with  the  famous 
Tivoli  where  the  conspirators  proposed  to  entrap  the 
general.  The  ground  floor  of  the  cafe,  which  stood  at 
the  angle  of  the  square  and  the  road,  and  was  built  in 
the  style  of  Rigou's  house,  had  three  windows  on  the 
road  and  two  on  the  square,  the  latter  being  separated 
by  a  glass  door  through  which  the  house  was  entered. 
The  cafe  had,  moreover,  a  double  door  which  opened 
on  a  side  alle}'  that  separated  it  from  the  neighboring 
house  (that  of  Vallet  the  Soulanges  mercer),  which  led 
to  an  inside  courtyard. 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  335 

The  house,  which  was  painted  wholly  in  3'ellow,  ex- 
cept the  blinds,  which  were  green,  is  one  of  the  few 
houses  in  the  little  town  which  has  two  stories  and  an 
attic.  And  this  is  wh}' :  Before  the  astonishing  rise 
in  the  prosperity  of  Ville-aux-Fayes  the  first  floor  of 
this  house,  which  had  four  chambers,  each  containing 
a  bed  and  the  meagre  furniture  thought  necessary 
to  justif)'  the  term  "furnished  lodgings,"  was  let  to 
strangers  who  were  obliged  to  come  to  Soulanges  on 
matters  connected  with  the  courts,  or  to  visitors  who 
did  not  sleep  at  the  chateau  ;  but  for  the  last  twenty- 
five  years  these  rooms  had  had  no  other  occupants  than 
the  mountebanks,  the  merchants,  the  vendors  of  quack 
medicines  who  came  to  the  fair,  or  else  commercial 
travellers.  During  the  fair-time  they  were  let  for  four 
francs  a  day ;  and  brought  Socquard  about  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  francs,  not  to  speak  of  the  profits  on  the 
consumption  of  food  which  the  guests  took  in  his  cafe. 

The  front  of  the  house  on  the  square  was  adorned 
with  painted  signs  ;  on  the  spaces  that  separated  the 
windows  from  the  glass  door  billiard-cues  were  repre- 
sented, lovingly  tied  together  with  ribbons,  and  above 
these  bows  were  depicted  smoking  bowls  of  punch,  the 
bowls  being  in  the  form  of  Greek  vases.  The  words 
*'  Cafe  de  la  Paix"  were  over  the  door,  brilliantly  painted 
in  yellow  on  a  green  ground,  at  each  end  of  which  rose 
pyramids  of  tricolored  biliinrd-balls.  The  window-saslies, 
painted  green,  had  small  panes  of  the  commonest  glass. 

A  dozen  arbor-vit.ne,  which  ought  to  be  called  cafe- 
trees,  stood  to  the  left  and  right  in  pots,  and  pre- 
sented their  usual  pretentious  and  sickl}'  appearance. 
Awnings,  with  which  shopkeepers  of  the  large  cities 
protect  their  windows  from  the  heat  of  the  sun,  were 


336  Sons  of  the  Soil 

as  yet  an  unknown  luxury  in  Soulanges.  The  benefi- 
cent liquids  in  the  bottles  which  stood  on  boards  just 
behind  the  window-panes  went  through  a  periodic 
cooking.  When  the  sun  concentrated  its  rays  through 
the  lenticular  knobs  in  the  glass  it  boiled  the  Madeira, 
the  syrups,  the  liqueurs,  the  preserved  plums,  and  the 
cherry-brandy  set  out  for  show;  for  the  heat  was  so 
great  that  Aglae,  her  father,  and  the  waiter  were 
forced  to  sit  outside  on  benches  poorly  shaded  by  the 
wilted  shrubs,  —  which  Mademoiselle  kept  alive  with 
water  that  was  almost  hot.  All  three,  father,  daughter, 
and  servant,  might  be  seen  at  certain  hours  of  the  daj^ 
stretched  out  there,  fast  asleep,  like  domestic  animals. 

In  1804,  the  period  when  "Paul  and  Virginia"  was 
the  rage,  the  inside  of  the  cafe  was  hung  with  a  paper 
which  represented  the  chief  scenes  of  that  romance. 
There  could  be  seen  negroes  gathering  the  coffee-crop, 
though  coffee  was  seldom  seen  in  the  establishment, 
not  twenty  cups  of  that  beverage  being  served  in  a 
month.  Colonial  products  were  of  so  little  account  in 
the  consumption  of  the  place  that  if  a  stranger  had 
asked  for  a  cup  of  chocolate  Socquard  would  have  been 
hard  put  to  it  to  serve  him.  Still,  he  would  have  done 
so  with  a  nauseous  brown  broth  made  from  tablets  in 
which  there  were  more  flour,  crushed  almonds,  and 
brown  sugar  than  pure  sugar  and  cacao,  concoctions 
which  were  sold  at  two  sous  a  cake  by  village  grocers, 
and  manufactured  for  the  purpose  of  ruining  the  sale  of 
the  Spanish  commodity. 

As  for  coffee,  Pere  Socquard  simply  boiled  it  in  a 

utensil  known  to  all  such  households  as  the  "  big  brown 

pot ; "  he  let  the  dregs  (that  were  half  chicory)  settle, 

^      and  served  the  decoction,  with  a  coolness  worthy  of  a 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  337 

Parisian  waiter,  in  a  china  cup  which,  if  flung  to  the 
ground,  would  not  have  cracked. 

At  this  period  the  sacred  respect  felt  for  sugar  under 
the  Emperor  was  not  yet  dispelled  in  the  town  of  Sou- 
langes,  and  Aglae  Socquard  boldly  served  three  bits  of 
it  of  the  size  of  hazel-nuts  to  a  foreign  merchant  who 
had  rashly  asked  for  the  literary  beverage. 

The  wall  decoration  of  the  cafe,  relieved  by  mirrors 
in  gilt  frames  and  brackets  on  which  the  hats  were 
hung,  had  not  been  changed  since  the  days  when  all 
Soulanges  came  to  admire  the  romantic  paper,  also  a 
counter  painted  like  mahogan}'  with  a  Sainte-Anne 
marble  top,  on  which  shone  vessels  of  plated  metal  and 
lamps  with  double  burners,  which  were,  rumor  said, 
given  to  the  beautiful  Madame  Socquard  by  Gaubertin. 
A  sticky  coating  of  dirt  covered  everything,  like  that 
found  on  old  pictures  put  away  and  long  forgotten  in  a 
garret.  The  tables  painted  to  resemble  marble,  the 
benches  covered  with  red  Utrecht  velvet,  the  hanging 
glass  lamp  full  of  oil,  which  fed  two  lights,  fastened 
by  a  chain  to  the  ceiling  and  adorned  with  glass  pen- 
dants, were  the  beginning  of  the  celebrity  of  the  then 
Cafe  de  la  Guerre. 

There,  from  1802  to  1804,  all  the  bourgeois  of  Sou- 
langes pla3'ed  at  dominoes  and  a  game  of  cards  called 
"  brelcm"  drank  tin}'  glasses  of  Uqueur  or  boiled  wine, 
and  ate  brandied  fruits  and  biscuits ;  for  the  dearness 
of  colonial  products  had  banished  coffee,  sugar,  and 
chocolate.  Punch  was  a  great  luxurj^ ;  so  was  "  bava- 
roise."  These  infusions  were  made  with  a  sugary  sub- 
stance resembling  molasses,  the  name  of  which  is  now 
lost,  but  which,  at  the  time,  made  the  fortune  of  its 
inventor. 

22      • 


838  Sons  of  the  Soil, 

These  succinct  details  will  recall  to  the  memory  of 
all  travellers  many  others  that  are  analogous  ;  and  those 
persons  who  have  never  left  Paris  can  imagine  the  ceil- 
ing blackened  with  smoke  and  the  mirrors  specked  with 
millions  of  spots,  showing  in  what  freedom  and  inde- 
pendence the  whole  order  of  diptera  lived  in  the  Cafe 
de  la  Paix. 

The  beautiful  Madame  Socquard,  whose  gallant  ad- 
ventures surpassed  those  of  the  mistress  of  the  Grand- 
I-Vert,  sat  there,  enthroned,  dressed  in  the  last  fashion. 
She  affected  the  style  of  a  sultana,  and  wore  a  turban. 
Sultanas,  under  the  Empire,  enjo3'ed  a  vogue  equal  to 
that  of  the  *' angel"  of  to-day.  The  whole  valley  took 
pattern  from  the  turbans,  the  poke-bonnets,  the  fur 
caps,  the  Chinese  head-gear  of  the  handsome  Socquard, 
to  whose  luxury  the  big-wigs  of  Soulanges  contributed. 
With  a  waist  beneath  her  arm -pits,  after  the  fashion  of 
our  mothers,  who  were  proud  of  their  imperial  graces, 
Junie  (she  was  named  Junie  !)  made  the  fortune  of  the 
house  of  Socquard.  Her  husband  owed  to  her  the 
ownership  of  a  vineyard,  of  the  house  they  lived  in, 
and  also  the  Tivoli.  The  father  of  Monsieur  Lupin  was 
said  to  have  committed  some  follies  for  the  handsome 
Madame  Socquard  ;  and  Gaubertin,  who  had  taken  her 
from  him,  certainly  owed  him  the  little  Bournier. 

These  details,  together  with  the  deep  mystery  with 
which  Socquard  manufactured  his  boiled  wine,  are  suffi- 
cient to  explain  why  his  name  and  that  of  the  Cafe  de 
la  Paix  were  popular ;  but  there  were  other  reasons  for 
their  renown.  Nothing  better  than  wine  could  be  got 
at  Tonsard's  and  the  other  taverns  in  the  valley  ;  from 
Conches  to  Ville-aux-Fayes,  in  a  circumference  of 
twenty   miles,  the  Cafe  Socquard  was  the  only  place 


Sons  of  the  Soil  339 

where  tlie  guests  could  play  billiards  ana  drink  the  punch 
so  admirably  concocted  by  the  proprietor.  There  alone 
could  be  found  a  displa}'  of  foreign  wines,  fine  liqueurs, 
and  brandied  fruits.  Its  name  resounded  daily  through- 
out the  valle}^  accompanied  b}^  ideas  of  superfine  sen- 
sual pleasures  such  as  men  whose  stomachs  are  more 
sensitive  than  their  hearts  dream  about.  To  all  these 
causes  of  popularity  was  added  that  of  being  an  integral 
part  of  the  great  festival  of  Soulanges.  The  Cafe  de  la 
Faix  was  to  the  town,  in  a  superior  degree,  what  the 
tavern  of  the  Grand-I-Vert  was  to  the  peasantry,  —  a 
centre  of  venom  ;  it  was  the  point  of  contact  and  trans- 
mission between  the  gossip  of  Ville-aux-Fayes  and  that 
of  the  valle3\  The  Grand-I-Vert  supplied  the  milk  and 
the  Cafe  de  la  Paix  the  cream,  and  Tonsard's  two  daugh- 
ters were  in  daily  communication  between  the  two. 

To  Socquard's  mind  the  square  of  Soulanges  was 
merely  an  appendage  to  his  cafe.  Hercules  went  from 
door  to  door,  talking  with  this  one  and  that  one,  and 
wearing  in  summer  no  other  garment  than  a  pair  of 
trousers  and  a  half-buttoned  waistcoat.  If  any  one 
entered  the  tavern,  the  people  with  whom  he  gossiped 
warned  him,  and  he  slowly  and  reluctantl}'  returned. 

Rigou  stopped  his  horse,  and  getting  out  of  the 
chaise,  fastened  the  bridle  to  one  of  the  posts  near  the 
gate  of  the  Tivoli.  Then  he  made  a  pretext  to  listen 
to  what  was  going  on  without  being  noticed,  and  placed 
himself  between  two  windows  through  one  of  which  he 
could,  b}^  advancing  his  head,  see  the  persons  in  the 
room,  watch  their  gestures,  and  catch  the  louder  tones 
which  came  through  the  glass  of  the  windows  and 
which  the  quiet  of  the  street  enabled  him  to  hear. 

'*  If  I  were  to  tell  old  Rigou  that  your  brother  Nicolas 


340  jSons  of  the  Soil 

is  after  La  Pecbina,"  cried  an  angry  voice,  "  and  that 
he  wa3^1ays  her,  he  'd  rip  the  entrails  out  of  every  one 
of  3'ou,  —  pack  of  scoundrels  that  you  are  at  the  Grand- 
I-Vert !  " 

*'  If  you  play  me  such  a  trick  as  that,  Aglae,"  said 
the  shrill  voice  of  Marie  Tonsard,  "  3'ou  sha'n't  tell  anj'- 
thing  more  except  to  the  worms  in  your  coffin.  Don't 
meddle  with  my  brother's  business  or  with  mine  and 
Bonnebault's  either." 

Marie,  instigated  by  her  grandmother,  had,  as  we  see, 
followed  Bonne bault ;  she  had  watched  him  through  the 
very  window  where  Rigou  was  now  standing,  and  had 
seen  him  displa3'ing  his  graces  and  paying  compliments 
so  agreeable  to  Mademoiselle  Socquard  that  she  was 
forced  to  smile  upon  him.  That  smile  had  brought 
about  the  scene  in  the  midst  of  which  the  revelation 
that  interested  Rigou  came  out. 

"  Well,  well,  Pere  Rigou,  what  are  you  doing  here?" 
said  Socquard,  slapping  the  usurer  on  the  shoulder; 
he  was  coming  from  a  barn  at  the  end  of  the  garden, 
where  he  kept  various  contrivances  for  the  public  games, 
such  as  weighing-machines,  merry-go-rounds,  see-saws, 
all  in  readiness  for  the  Tivoli  when  opened.  Socquard 
stepped  noiselessly,  for  he  was  wearing  a  pair  of  those 
yellow  leather  slippers  which  cost  so  little  by  the  gross 
that  they  have  an  enormous  sale  in  the  provinces. 

"  If  you  have  any  fresh  lemons,  I'd  like  a  glass  of 
lemonade,"  said  Rigou  ;    "  it  is  a  warm  evening." 

''  Who  is  making  that  racket?  "  said  Socquard,  look- 
ing through  the  window  and  seeing  his  daughter  and 
Marie  Tonsard. 

"They  are  quarrelling  for  Bonnebault,"  said  Rigou, 
sardonically. 


fl 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  841 

The  anger  of  the  father  was  at  once  controlled  by  the 
interest  of  the  tavern-keeper.  The  tavern-keeper  judged 
it  prudent  to  listen  outside,  as  Rigou  was  doing ;  the 
father  was  inclined  to  enter  and  declare  that  Bonnebault, 
possessed  of  admirable  qualities  in  the  eyes  of  a  tavern- 
keeper,  had  none  at  all  as  son-in-law  to  one  of  the 
notables  of  Soulanges.  And  yet  Pere  Socquard  had 
received  but  few  offers  for  his  daughter.  At  twenty- 
two  Aglae  already  rivalled  in  size  and  weight  Madame 
Vermichel,  whose  agility  seemed  phenomenal.  Sitting 
behind  a  counter  increased  the  adipose  tendency  which 
she  derived  from  her  father. 

"  What  devil  is  it  that  gets  into  girls  ?  "  said  Socquard 
to  Rigou. 

*'  Ha !  "  replied  the  ex-Benedictine,  *'  of  all  the  devils, 
that 's  the  one  the  Church  has  most  to  do  with." 

Just  then  Bonnebault  came  out  of  the  billiard-room 
with  a  cue  in  his  hand,  and  struck  Marie  sharply, 
saying :  — 

*'  You  've  made  me  miss  ray  stroke  ;  but  I  '11  not  miss 
you,  and  I  '11  give  it  to  you  till  you  muffle  that  clapper 
of  yours.'* 

Socquard  and  Rigou,  who  now  thought  it  wise  to  in- 
terfere, entered  the  cafe  by  the  front  door,  raising  such 
a  crowd  of  flies  that  the  light  from  the  windows  was 
obscured ;  the  sound  was  like  that  of  the  distant  prac- 
tising of  a  drum-corps.  After  their  first  excitement  was 
over,  the  big  flies  with  bluish  bellies,  accompanied  by 
the  stinging  little  ones,  returned  to  their  quarters  in  the 
windows,  where  on  three  tiers  of  planks,  the  paint  of 
which  was  indistinguishable  under  the  fl3'-specks,  were 
rows  of  viscous  bottles  ranged  like  soldiers. 

Marie  was  crying.     To  be  struck  before  a  rival  by  the 


342  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

man  she  loves  is  one  of  those  humiliations  that  no 
woman  can  endure,  no  matter  what  her  place  on  the 
social  ladder  may  be  ;  and  the  lower  that  place  is,  the 
more  violent  is  the  expression  of  her  wrath.  The  Ton- 
sard  girl  took  no  notice  of  Rigou  or  of  Socquard  ;  she 
flung  herself  on  a  bench,  in  gloomy  and  sullen  silence, 
which  the  ex-monk  carefully  watched. 

*'Get  a  fresh  lemon,  Aglae,"  said  Pere  Socquard, 
"and  go  and  rinse  that  glass  yourself." 

'*  You  did  right  to  send  her  away,"  whispered  Rigou, 
*'  or  she  might  have  been  hurt ; "  and  he  glanced  signifi- 
canth^  at  the  hand  with  which  Marie  grasped  a  stool 
she  had  caught  up  to  throw  at  Aglae's  head. 

*'Now,  Marie,"  said  Socquard,  standing  before  her, 
*'  people  don't  come  here  to  fling  stools ;  if  you  were 
to  break  one  of  my  mirrors,  the  milk  of  your  cows 
wouldn't  pay  for  the  damage." 

"Pere  Socquard,  your  daughter  is  a  reptile;  I'm 
worth  a  dozen  of  her,  I  'd  have  you  know.  If  you  don't 
want  Bonnebault  for  a  son-in-law,  it  is  high  time  for 
you  to  tell  him  to  go  and  play  billiards  somewhere  else  ; 
he  's  losing  a  hundred  sous  every  minute." 

In  the  middle  of  this  flux  of  words,  screamed  rather 
than  said,  Socquard  took  Marie  round  the  waist  and 
flung  her  out  of  the  door,  in  spite  of  her  cries  and  resist- 
ance. It  was  none  too  soon ;  for  Bonnebault  rushed 
out  of  the  billiard- room,  his  e3'es  blazing. 

"  It  sha'n't  end  so  ! "  cried  Marie  Tonsard. 

"  Begone  !  "  shouted  Bonnebault,  whom  VioUet  held 
back  round  the  body  lest  he  should  do  the  girl  some 
hurt.  "Go  to  the  devil,  or  I  will  never  speak  to  you 
or  look  at  you  again  !  " 

"  You ! "  said  Marie,  flinging  him  a  furious  glance. 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  343 

"  Give  me  back  my  money,  and  I  '11  leave  you  to  Made- 
moiselle Socquard  if  she  is  rich  enough  to  keep  you." 

Thereupon  Marie,  frightened  when  she  saw  that 
even  Socquard-AIcides  could  scarcely  hold  Bonne- 
bault,  who  sprang  after  her  like  a  tiger,  took  to  flight 
along  the  road. 

Rigou  followed,  and  told  her  to  get  into  his  carriole 
to  escape  Bonnebault,  whose  shouts  reached  the  hotel 
Soudry ;  then,  after  hiding  Marie  under  the  leather 
curtains,  he  came  back  to  the  cafe  to  drink  his  lemon- 
ade and  examine  the  group  it  now  contained,  composed 
of  Plissoud,  Amaur}',  Viollet,  and  the  waiter,  who  were 
all  trying  to  pacify  Bonnebault. 

"  Come,  hussar,  it's  your  turn  to  play,"  said  Amaury, 
a  small,  fair  young  man,  with  a  dull  eye. 

"  Besides,  she's  taken  herself  off,"  said  Viollet. 

If  any  one  ever  betrayed  astonishment  it  was  Plis- 
soud when  he  beheld  the  usurer  of  Blangy  sitting  at 
one  of  the  tables,  and  more  occupied  in  watching  him, 
Plissoud,  than  in  noticing  the  quarrel  that  was  going 
on.  In  spite  of  himself,  the  sheriff  allowed  his  face  to 
show  the  species  of  bewilderment  which  a  man  feels  at 
an  unexpected  meeting  with  a  person  whom  he  hates 
and  is  plotting  against,  and  he  speedily  withdrew  into 
the  billiard-room. 

"  Adieu,  Pere  Socquard,"  said  Rigou. 

"  I  '11  get  your  carriage,"  said  the  innkeeper  ;  *'  take 
your  time." 

*'  How  shall  I  find  out  what  those  fellows  have  been 
saying  over  their  pool?"  Rigou  was  asking  himself, 
when  he  happened  to  see  the  waiter's  face  in  the  mirror 
beside  him. 

The  waiter  was  a  jack  at  all  trades ;  he  cultivated 


844  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

Socqnard's  vines,  swept  out  the  cafe  and  the  billiard- 
room,  kept  the  garden  in  order,  and  watered  the 
Tivoli,  all  for  fifty  francs  a  3ear.  He  was  alwa3S  with- 
out a  jacket,  except  on  grand  occasions ;  usually  his 
sole  garments  were  a  pair  of  blue  linen  trousers,  heavy 
shoes,  and  a  striped  velvet  waistcoat,  over  which  he 
wore  an  apron  of  homespun  linen  when  at  work  in  the 
cafe  or  billiard-room.  This  apron,  with  strings,  was 
the  badge  of  his  functions.  The  fellow  had  been 
hired  by  Socquard  at  the  last  annual  fair ;  for  in  this 
valley,  as  throughout  Burgundy,  servants  are  hired  in 
the  market-place  by  the  3'ear,  exactly  as  one  buys 
horses. 

"  What 's  your  name?  "  said  Rigou. 

"  Michel,  at  3'our  service,"  replied  the  waiter. 

"  Does  n't  old  Fourchon  come  here  sometimes?" 

*'Two  or  three  times  a  week,  with  Monsieur  Ver- 
michel,  who  gives  me  a  couple  of  sous  to  warn  him  if 
his  wife  's  after  them." 

"He's  a  fine  old  fellow,  Pere  Fourchon  ;  knows  a 
great  deal  and  is  full  of  good  sense,"  said  Rigou,  pa}^- 
ing  for  his  lemonade  and  leaving  the  evil-smelling  place 
when  he  saw  Pere  Socquard  leading  his  horse  round. 

Just  as  he  was  about  to  get  into  the  carriage,  Rigou 
noticed  the  chemist  crossing  the  square  and  hailed  liim 
with  a  "  Ho,  there,  Monsieur  Vermut !  "  Recognizing 
the  rich  man,  Vermut  hurried  up.  Rigou  joined  him, 
and  said  in  a  low  voice  :  — 

"  Are  there  an}'  drugs  that  can  eat  into  the  tissue  of 
the  skin  so  as  to  produce  a  real  disease,  like  a  whitlow 
on  the  finger,  for  instance?  " 

"  If  Monsieur  Gourdon  would  help,  3^es,"  answered 
the  little  chemist. 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  345 

"  Vermut,  not  a  word  of  all  this,  or  you  and  T  will 
quarrel ;  but  speak  of  the  matter  to  Monsieur  Gourdon, 
and  tell  him  to  come  and  see  me  the  day  after  to-morrow. 
I  may  be  able  to  procure  him  the  delicate  operation  of 
cutting  off  a  forefinger." 

Then,  leaving  the  little  man  thoroughly  bewildered, 
Rigou  got  into  the  carriole  beside  Marie  Tonsard. 

*'  Well,  you  little  viper,"  he  said,  taking  her  by  the 
arm  when  he  had  fastened  the  reins  to  a  hook  in  front 
of  the  leathern  apron  which  closed  the  carriole  and  the 
horse  had  started  on  a  trot,  "  do  you  think  you  can 
keep  Bonnubault  by  giving  wa}^  to  such  violence  ?  If 
you  were  a  wise  girl  you  would  promote  his  marriage 
with  that  hogshead  of  stupidity  and  take  your  revenge 
afterwards." 

Marie  could  not  help  smiling  as  she  answered  :  — - 

"  Ah,  how  bad  you  are  !  you  are  the  master  of  us  all 
in  wickedness." 

''Listen  to  me,  Marie;  I  like  the  peasants,  but  it 
won't  do  for  any  one  of  you  to  come  between  my  teeth 
and  a  mouthful  of  game.  Your  brother  Nicolas,  as 
Aglae  said,  is  after  La  Pechina.  That  must  not  be ; 
I  protect  her,  that  girl.  She  is  to  be  my  heiress  for 
thirty  thousand  francs,  and  I  intend  to  marry  her  well. 
I  know  that  Nicolas,  helped  by  your  sister  Catherine, 
came  near  killing  the  little  thing  this  morning.  You 
are  to  see  your  brotlier  and  sister  at  once,  and  say  to 
them :  '  If  you  let  La  Pechina  alone,  Pere  Rigou  will 
save  Nicolas  from  the  conscription." 

"  You  are  the  devil  incarnate  !  "  cried  Marie.  "  They 
do  sa}'  you  've  signed  a  compact  with  him.  Is  that 
true?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Rigou,  gravely. 


346  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

''  I  heard  it,  but  I  did  n't  believe  it." 

*'He  has  guaranteed  that  no  attacks  aimed  at  me 
shall  hurt  me ;  that  I  shall  never  be  robbed  ;  that  I 
shall  live  a  hundred  years  and  succeed  in  everything 
I  undertake,  and  be  as  young  to  the  day  of  my  death  as 
a  two-year  old  cockerel  —  " 

"Well,  if  that's  so,"  said  Marie,  "it  must  be 
devilishly  easy  for  you  to  save  mj-  brother  from  the 
conscription  —  " 

"If  he  chooses,  that's  to  sa}^  He'll  have  to  lose 
a  finger,"  returned  Rigou.     "  I  '11  tell  him  how." 

"Look  out,  you  are  taking  the  upper  road !"  ex- 
claimed Marie. 

"  I  never  go  by  the  lower  at  night,"  said  the  ex- 
monk. 

"  On  account  of  the  cross?"  said  Marie,  naively. 

"That's  it,  sly-boots,"  replied  her  diabolical  com- 
panion. 

They  had  reached  a  spot  where  the  high-road  cuts 
through  a  slight  elevation  of  ground,  making  on  each 
side  of  it  a  rather  steep  slope,  such  as  we  often  see 
on  the  mail-roads  of  France.  At  the  end  of  this  little 
gorge,  which  is  about  a  hundred  feet  long,  the  roads 
to  Ronquerolles  and  to  Cerneux  meet  and  form  an  open 
space,  in  the  centre  of  which  stands  a  cross.  From 
either  elope  a  man  could  aim  at  a  victim  and  kill  him 
at  close  quarters,  with  all  the  more  ease  because  the 
little  hill  is  covered  with  vines,  and  the  evil-doer  could 
lie  in  ambush  among  the  briers  and  brambles  that  over- 
grow them.  We  can  readil}'  imagine  why  the  usurer 
did  not  take  that  road  after  dark.  The  Thune  flows 
round  the  little  hill ;  and  the  place  is  called  the  Close 
of  the  Cross.     No  spot  was  ever  more  adapted  for  re- 


Sons  of  the  Soil  347 

venge  or  murder,  for  the  road  to  Ronquerolles  con- 
tinues to  the  bridge  over  the  Avonne  in  front  of  the 
pavilion  of  the  Rendezvous,  while  that  to  Cerneux 
leads  off  above  the  mail-road  ;  so  that  between  the  four 
roads,  —  to  Les  Aigues,  Ville-aux-Fayes,  Ronquerolles, 
and  Cerneux,  —  a  murderer  could  choose  his  line  of  re- 
treat and  leave  his  pursuers  in  uncertaintj'. 

*'  I  shall  drop  3'ou  at  the  entrance  of  the  village," 
said  Rigou  when  they  neared  the  first  houses  of 
Blangy. 

"  Because  you  are  afraid  of  Annette,  old  coward  !  " 
cried  Marie.  "  When  are  you  going  to  send  her  away? 
3'ou  have  had  her  now  three  years.  What  amuses  me 
is  that  your  old  woman  still  lives ;  the  good  God 
knows  how  to  revenge  himself." 


348  iSo7is  of  the  Soil 

IV. 

THE  TRIUMVIRATE  OF  VILLE-AUX-FAYES. 

The  cautious  usurer  compelled  his  wife  and  Jean  to 
go  to  bed  and  to  rise  by  da3'light ;  assuring  them  that 
the  house  would  never  be  attacked  if  he  sat  up  till  mid- 
night, and  he  never  himself  rose  till  late.  Not  onty 
had  he  thus  secured  himself  from  interruption  between 
seven  at  night  and  five  the  next  morning  but  he  had 
accustomed  his  wife  and  Jean  to  respect  his  morning 
sleep  and  that  of  Hagar,  whose  room  was  directly 
behind  his. 

So,  on  the  following  morning,  about  half  past  six, 
Madame  Rigou,  who  herself  took  care  of  the  poultry- 
3^ard  with  some  assistance  from  Jean,  knocked  timidly 
at  her  husband's  door. 

'* Monsieur  Rigou,"  she  said,  ''you  told  me  to  wake 
you." 

The  tones  of  that  voice,  the  attitude  of  the  woman, 
her  frightened  air  as  she  obeyed  an  order  the  execu- 
tion of  which  might  be  ill-received,  showed  the  utter 
self-abnegation  in  which  the  poor  creature  lived,  and 
the  affection  she  still  bore  to  her  pett}^  tyrant. 

"  Very  good,"  replied  Eigou. 

"  Shall  I  wake  Annette?"  she  asked. 

"  No,  let  her  sleep  ;  she  has  been  up  half  the  niglit," 
he  replied,  gravely. 

The  man  was  always  grave,  even  when  he  allowed 
himself  to  jest.     Annette  had  in  fact  opened  the  door 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  349 

secretly  to  Sibilet,  Fourchon,  and  Catherine  Tonsard, 
who  all  came  at  different  hours  between  eleven  and  two 
o'clock. 

Ten  minutes  later  Rigou,  dressed  with  more  care 
than  usual,  came  downstairs  and  greeted  his  wife  with 
a  ''  Good-morning,  my  old  woman,"  which  made  her 
happier  than  if  counts  had  knelt  at  her  feet. 

"Jean,"  he  said  to  the  ex-lay-brother,  ''don't  leave 
the  house ;  if  a,ny  one  robs  me  it  will  be  worse  for  you 
than  for  me." 

B}^  thus  mingling  mildness  and  severit}^,  hopes  and 
rebuffs,  the  clever  egoist  kept  his  three  slaves  faithful 
and  close  at  his  heels,  like  dogs. 

Taking  the  upper  road,  so-called,  to  avoid  the  Close 
of  the  Cross,  Rigou  reached  the  square  of  Soulanges 
about  eight  o'clock. 

Just  as  he  was  fastening  his  rein  to  the  post  nearest 
the  httle  door  with  three  steps,  a  blind  opened  and 
Soudry  showed  his  face,  pitted  with  the  small-pox, 
which  the  expression  of  his  small  black  eyes  rendered 
craft}'. 

"  Let's  begin  by  taking  a  crust  here  before  we  start," 
he  said;  "we  sha'n't  get  breakfast  at  Ville-aux-Fayes 
before  one  o'clock." 

Then  he  softly  called  a  servant-girl,  as  young  and 
pretty  as  Annette,  who  came  down  noiselessly,  and 
received  his  order  for  ham  and  bread ;  after  which  he 
went  himself  to  the  cellar  and  fetched  some  wine. 

Rigou  contemplated  for  the  hundredth  time  the 
well-known  dining-room,  floored  in  oak,  with  stuccoed 
ceiling  and  cornice,  its  high  wainscot  and  handsome 
cupboards  finely  painted,  its  porcelain  stone  and  mag- 
nificent tall  clock, — all  the  property  of  Mademoiselle 


350  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

Laguerre.  The  chair-bacl^  were  in  the  form  of  hres, 
painted  white  and  highl}'  varnished ;  the  seats  were  of 
green  morocco  with  gilt  nails.  A  massive  mahogany 
table  was  covered  with  green  oilcloth,  with  large  squares 
of  a  deeper  shade  of  green,  and  a  plain  border  of  the 
lighter.  The  floor,  laid  in  Hungarian  point,  was  care- 
full}^  waxed  by  Urbain  and  showed  the  care  which 
ex-waiting-women  know  how  to  exact  out  of  their 
servants. 

*'Bah!  it  cost  too  much,"  thought  Rigou  for  the 
hundredth  time.  "  I  can  eat  as  good  a  dinner  in  my 
room  as  here,  and  I  have  the  income  of  the  mone}-  this 
useless  splendor  would  have  wasted.  Where  is  Madame 
Soudry  ?  "  he  asked,  as  the  ma3'or  returned  armed  with 
a  venerable  bottle. 

''  Asleep." 

*'And  you  no  longer  disturb  her  slumbers?"  said 
Rigou. 

The  ex-gendarme  winked  with  a  knowing  air,  and 
pointed  to  the  ham  which  Jeannette,  the  prettj'  maid, 
was  just  bringing  in. 

"That  will  pick  you  up,  a  pretty  bit  like  that,"  he 
said.  '^  It  was  cured  in  the  house  ;  we  cut  into  it  only 
yesterday." 

''  Where  did  you  find  her?"  said  the  ex-Benedictine 
in  Soudry's  ear. 

"She  is  like  the  ham,"  replied  the  ex-gendarme, 
winking  again  ;  "I  have  had  her  onl}^  a  week." 

Jeannette,  still  in  her  night-cap,  with  a  short  petti- 
coat and  her  bare  feet  in  slippers,  had  slipped  on  a 
boddice  made  with  straps  over  the  arms  in  true  peasant 
fashion,  over  which  she  had  crossed  a  neckerchief  which 
did  not  entirely  hide  her  fresh  and  youthful  attractions, 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  351 

which  were  at  least  as  appetizing  as  the  ham  she  carried. 
Short  and  phimp,  with  bare  arms  mottled  red,  ending 
in  large,  dimpled  hands  with  short  but  well-made  fingers, 
she  was  a  picture  of  health.  The  face  was  that  of  a 
true  Burgundian,  —  ruddy,  but  white  about  the  temples, 
throat,  and  ears ;  the  hair  was  chestnut ;  the  corners 
of  the  eyes  turned  up  towards  the  top  of  the  ears ;  the 
nostrils  were  wide,  the  mouth  sensual,  and  a  little  down 
lay  along  the  cheeks ;  all  this,  together  with  a  jaunty 
expression,  tempered  however  by  a  deceitfully  modest 
attitude,  made  her  the  model  of  a  roguish  servant- 
girl. 

*'0n  my  honor,  Jeannette  is  as  good  as  the  ham," 
said  Rigou.  *'If  I  hadn't  an  Annette  I  should  want 
a  Jeannette." 

*'  One  is  as  good  as  the  otber,"  said  the  ex-gendarrae, 
for  your  Annette  is  gentle  and  fair  and  delicate. 
"  How  is  Madame  Rigou,  —  is  she  asleep?"  added  Sou- 
dry,  roughly,  to  let  Rigou  see  he  understood  his  joke. 

*'  She  wakes  with  the  cock,  but  she  goes  to  roost  with 
the  hens,"  replied  Rigou.  "As  for  me,  I  sit  up  and 
read  the  '  Constitutionnel.'  My  wife  lets  me  sleep  at 
night  and  in  the  morning  too ;  she  would  n't  come  into 
my  room  for  all  the  world." 

"It's  just  the  other  way  here,"  replied  Jeannette. 
"Madame  sits  up  with  the  company  playing  cards; 
sometimes  there  are  sixteen  of  them  in  the  salon ; 
Monsieur  goes  to  bed  at  eight  o'clock,  and  we  get  up 
at  daylight  —  " 

"You  think  that's  different,*'  said  Rigou,  "but  it 
comes  to  the  same  thing  in  the  end.  Well,  my  dear, 
you  come  to  me  and  I  '11  send  Annette  here,  and  that 
will  be  the  same  thing  and  different  too." 


352  Sons  of  the  Soil, 

"  Old  scamp,  you  '11  make  her  ashamed,"  said 
Soudiy. 

"Ha!  gendarme;  you  want  j*our  field  to  3'ourself! 
Well,  we  all  get  our  happiness  where  we  can  find  it." 

Jeannette,  by  her  master's  order,  disappeared  to  lay 
out  his  clothes. 

"You  must  have  promised  to  marry  her  when  3'our 
wife  dies,"  said  Rigou. 

"At  3^our  age  and  mine,"  replied  Soudr}'^,  "there's 
no  other  wa3\" 

"  With  girls  of  any  ambition  it  would  be  one  way 
to  become  a  widower,"  added  Rigou;  "especiallj^  if 
Madame  Soudry  found  fault  with  Jeannette  for  her 
wa^^  of  scrubbing  the  staircase." 

The  remark  made  the  two  husbands  pensive.  When 
Jeannette  returned  and  announced  that  all  was  read}', 
Soudry  said  to  her,  "  Come  and  help  me !"  —  a  precau- 
tion which  made  the  ex-monk  smile. 

"  There  's  a  difference,  indeed  !  "  said  he.  "  As  for 
me,  I  'd  leave  yon  alone  with  Annette,  my  good 
friend." 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  Soudr}^,  in  his  best  clothes, 
got  into  the  wicker  carriage,  and  the  two  friends  drove 
round  the  lake  of  Soulanges  to  Ville-aux-Fa^es. 

"Look  at  it!"  said  Rigou,  as  they  reached  an  emi- 
nence from  which  the  chateau  of  Soulanges  could  be 
seen  in  profile. 

The  old  revolutionary  put  into  the  tone  of  his  words 
all  the  hatred  which  the  rural  middle  classes  feel  to  the 
great  chateaus  and  the  great  estates. 

"Yes,  but  I  hope  it  will  never  be  destroj'ed  as  long 
as  I  live,"  said  Soudry.  "The  Comte  de  Soulanges 
was  my  general ;  he  did  me  kindness  ;  he  got  my  pen- 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  353 

sion,  and  he  allows  Lupin  to  manage  the  estate.  After 
Lupin  some  of  us  will  have  it,  and  as  long  as  the  Sou- 
langes  family  exists  the}'  and  their  property  will  be 
respected.  Such  folks  are  large-minded  ;  they  let  every 
one  make  his  profit,  and  they  find  it  pays." 

*'  Yes,  but  the  Comte  de  Soulanges  has  three  children, 
who,  at  his  death,  may  not  agree,"  replied  Rigou.  "  The 
husband  of  his  daughter  and  his  sons  may  go  to  law, 
and  end  bj'  selling  the  lead  and  iron  mines  to  manu- 
facturers, from  whom  we  shall  manage  to  get  them 
back." 

The  chateau  just  then  showed  up  in  profile,  as  if  to 
defy  the  ex-monk. 

"  Ah  !  look  at  it ;  in  those  days  they  built  well,"  cried 
Soudry.  ''  But  just  now  Monsieur  le  Comte  is  econo- 
mizing, so  as  to  make  Soulanges  the  entailed  estate  of 
his  peerage." 

"My  dear  friend,"  said  Rigou,  "entailed  estates 
won't  exist  much  longer." 

When  the  topic  of  public  matters  was  exhausted,  the 
worthy  pair  began  to  discuss  the  merits  of  their  pretty 
maids  in  terms  too  Burgundian  to  be  printed  here. 
That  inexhaustible  subject  carried  them  so  far  that 
before  they  knew  it  they  saw  the  capital  of  the  arron- 
dissement  over  which  Gaubertin  reigned,  and  which 
we  hope  excites  enough  curiosity  in  the  reader's  mind 
to  justifj^  a  short  digression. 

The  name  of  Ville-aux-Fayes,  singular  as  it  is,  is 
explained  as  the  corryption  of  the  words  (in  low 
Latin)  Villa  in  Fago^  —  the  manor  of  the  woods. 
This  name  indicates  that  a  forest  6nce  covered  the 
(U'lta  formed  by  the  Avonne  before  it  joins  its  con- 
fluent   the   Youne.      Some  Frank    doubtless    built    a 

23 


354  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

fortress  on  the  hill  which  slopes  gently  to  the  long 
plain.  The  savage  conqueror  separated  his  vantage- 
ground  from  the  delta  by  a  wide  and  deep  moat  and 
made  the  position  a  formidable  one,  essentially  seign- 
orial,  convenient  for  enforcing  tolls  across  the  bridges 
and  for  protecting  his  rights  of  profit  on  all  grains 
ground  in  the  mills. 

That  is  the  history  of  the  beginning  of  Ville-aux- 
Fa3'es.  Wherever  feudal  or  ecclesiastical  dominion 
established  itself  there  we  find  gathered  together  inter- 
ests, inhabitants,  and,  later,  towns  when  the  localities 
were  in  a  position  to  maintain  them  and  to  found  and 
develop  great  industries.  The  method  of  floating  tim- 
ber discovered  by  Jean  Rouvet  in  1549,  which  required 
certain  convenient  stations  to  intercept  it,  was  the 
making  of  Ville-aux-Faj'es,  which,  up  to  that  time, 
had  been,  compared  to  Soulanges,  a  mere  village. 
Ville-aux-Fa3^es  became  a  storage  place  for  timber, 
which  covered  the  shores  of  the  two  rivers  for  a  dis- 
tance of  over  thirty  miles.  The  work  of  taking  out 
of  the  water,  computing  the  lost  logs,  and  making  the 
rafts  which  the  Yonne  carried  down  to  the  Seine, 
brought  together  a  large  concourse  of  workmen.  Such 
a  population  increased  consumption  and  encouraged 
trade.  Tluis  Ville-aux-Fayes,  which  had  but  six  hun- 
dred inhabitants  at  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
had  two  thousand  in  1790,  and  Gaubertin  had  now  raised 
the  number  to  four  thousand,  by  the  following  means. 

When  the  legislative  assembly  decreed  the  new  laying 
out  of  territory,  Ville-aux-Fayes,  which  was  situated 
where,  geographically,  a  sub-prefecture  was  needed, 
was  chosen  instead  of  Soulanges  as  chief  town  or  cap- 
ital of  the  arrondissement.     The  increased  population 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  355 

of  Paris,  by  increasing  the  demand  for  and  the  vaUie 
of  wood  as  fuel,  necessarily  increased  the  commerce  of 
Ville-aux-Fayes.  Gaubertin  had  founded  his  fortune, 
after  losing  his  stewardship,  on  this  growing  bnsiness, 
estimating  the  effect  of  peace  on  the  population  of 
Paris,  which  did  actually  increase  by  over  one-third 
between  1815  and  1825. 

The  shape  of  Ville-aux-Fayes  followed  the  conforma- 
tion of  the  ground.  Each  side  of  the  promontor}'  was 
lined  with  wharves.  The  dam  to  stop  the  timber  from 
floating  further  down  was  just  below  a  hill  covered  by 
the  forest  of  Soulanges.  Between  the  dam  and  the  town 
lay  a  suburb.  The  lower  town,  covering  the  greater 
part  of  the  delta,  came  down  to  the  shores  of  the  lake 
of  the  Avonne. 

Above  the  lower  town  some  five  hundred  houses  with 
gardens,  standing  on  the  heights,  were  grouped  round 
three  sides  of  the  promontory,  and  enjoyed  the  varied 
scene  of  the  diamond  waters  of  the  lake,  the  rafts  in 
construction  along  its  edge,  and  the  piles  of  wood  upon 
the  shores.  The  waters,  laden  with  timber  from  the 
river  and  the  rapids  which  fed  the  mill-races  and  the 
sluices  of  a  few  manufactories,  presented  an  animated 
scene,  all  the  more  charming  because  inclosed  in  the 
greenery  of  forests,  while  the  long  valley  of  Les  Aigues 
offered  a  glorious  contrast  to  the  dark  foil  of  the  heights 
above  the  town  itself. 

Gaubertin  had  built  himself  a  house  on  the  level  of 
the  delta,  intending  to  make  a  place  which  should  im- 
prove the  locality  and  render  the  lower  town  as  desir- 
able as  the  upper.  It  was  a  modern  house  built  of 
stone,  with  a  balcony  of  iron  railings,  outside  blinds, 
painted  windows,  and  no  ornament  but  a  line  of  fret- 


856  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

work  under  the  eaves,  a  slate  roof,  one  story  in  height 
with  a  garret,  a  fine  court3'ard,  and  behind  it  an  English 
garden  bathed  by  the  waters  of  the  Avonne.  The  ele- 
gance of  the  place  compelled  the  department  to  build 
a  fine  edifice  nearly  opposite  to  it  for  the  sub-prefecture, 
provisionally-  lodged  in  a  mere  kennel.  The  town  itself 
also  built  a  town-hall.  The  law-courts  had  lately  been 
installed  in  a  new  edifice ;  so  that  Ville-aux-Fayes  owed 
to  the  active  influence  of  its  present  mayor  a  number 
of  really  imposing  public  buildings.  The  gendarmerie 
had  also  built  barracks  which  completed  the  square 
formed  by  the  market-place. 

These  changes,  on  which  the  inhabitants  prided  them- 
selves, were  due  to  the  impetus  given  by  Gaubertin, 
who  within  a  day  or  two  had  received  the  cross  of  the 
Legion  of  honor,  in  anticipation  of  the  coming  birth- 
day of  the  king.  In  a  town  so  situated  and  so  modern 
there  was  of  course,  neither  aristocracy  nor  nobilit}^ 
Consequently,  the  rich  merchants  of  Ville-aux-Fayes, 
proud  of  their  own  independence,  wilHngly  espoused 
the  cause  of  the  peasantr}'  against  a  count  of  the  Em- 
pire who  had  taken  sides  with  the  Restoration.  To 
them  the  oppressors  were  the  oppressed.  The  spirit 
of  this  commercial  town  was  so  well  known  to  the  gov- 
ernment that  they  sent  there  as  sub-prefect  a  man  with  a 
conciliatory  temper,  a  pupil  of  his  uncle,  the  well-known 
des  Lupeaulx,  one  of  those  men,  accustomed  to  com- 
promise, who  are  familiar  with  the  difficulties  and  neces- 
sities of  all  administrations,  but  whom  puritan  politicians, 
doing  infinitely  worse  things,  call  corrupt. 

The  interior  of  Gaubertin's  house  was  decorated  with 
the  unmeaning  commonplaces  of  modern  luxury.  Rich 
papers  with  gold  borders,  bronze  chandeliers,  mahog- 


Sons  of  the  Soil  357 

an}'  furniture  of  a  new  pattern,  astral  lamps,  round 
tables  with  marble  tops,  white  china  with  gilt  lines  for 
dessert,  red  morocco  chairs  and  mezzo-tint  engravings 
in  the  dining-room,  and  blue  cashmere  furniture  in  the 
salon, — all  details  of  a  chilling  and  perfectly  unmean- 
ing character,  but  which  to  the  eyes  of  Ville-aux- 
Fa3'es  seemed  the  last  efforts  of  Sardanapalian  luxury. 
Madame  Gaubertin  played  the  role  of  elegance  with 
great  effect ;  she  assumed  little  airs  and  was  lackadaisi- 
cal at  forty-five  years  of  age,  as  though  certain  of  the 
homage  of  her  court. 

We  ask  those  who  reall^^know  France,  if  these  houses 
—  those  of  Rigou,  Soudr^^,  and  Gaubertin  —  are  not  a 
perfect  presentation  of  the  village,  the  little  town,  and 
the  seat  of  a  sub-prefecture  ? 

Without  being  a  man  of  mind,  or  a  man  of  talent, 
Gaubertin  had  the  appearance  of  being  both.  He  owed 
the  accuracy  of  his  perception  and  his  consummate  art 
to  an  extreme  keenness  after  gain.  He  desired  wealth, 
not  for  his  wife,  not  for  his  children,  not  for  himself, 
not  for  his  family,  not  for  the  reputation  that  money 
gives  ;  after  the  gratification  of  his  revenge  (the  hope  of 
which  kept  him  alive)  he  loved  the  touch  of  mone}',  like 
Nucingen,  who,  it  was  said,  kept  fingering  the  gold  in 
his  pockets.  The  rush  of  business  was  Gaubertin's 
wine  ;  and  though  he  had  his  belly  full  of  it,  he  had  all 
the  eagerness  of  one  who  was  empt3\  As  with  valets 
of  the  drama,  intrigues,  tricks  to  pla}',  mischief  to  or- 
ganize, deceptions,  commercial  over-reachings,  accounts 
to  render  and  receive,  disputes,  and  quarrels  of  self- 
interest,  exhilarated  him,  kept  his  blood  in  circulation, 
and  his  bile  flowing.  He  went  and  came  on  foot,  on 
horseback,  in  a  carriage,  by  water ;   he  was  at  all  auc- 


358  Sons  of  the  Soil 

tions  and  timber  sales  in  Paris,  thinking  of  everything, 
keeping  hundreds  of  wires  in  his  hands  and  never  get- 
ting them  tangled. 

Quick,  decided  in  his  movements  as  in  his  ideas, 
short  and  squat  in  figure,  with  a  thin  nose,  a  fierj'  eye, 
an  ear  on  the  qui  vive,  there  was  something  of  the 
hunting-dog  about  him.  His  brown  face,  ver}^  round 
and  sunburned,  from  which  the  tanned  ears  stood  out 
prominently,  —  for  he  always  wore  a  cap,  —  was  in 
keeping  with  that  character.  His  nose  turned  up  ;  his 
tightly-closed  lips  could  never  have  opened  to  say  a 
kindly  thing.  His  bush}^  whiskers  formed  a  pair  of 
black  and  shiny  tufts  beneath  the  highly-colored 
cheek-bones,  and  were  lost  in  his  cravat.  Hair  that 
was  pepper-and-salt  in  color  and  frizzled  naturall}^  in 
stages  like  those  of  a  judge's  wig,  seeming  scorched 
by  the  fury  of  the  fire  which  heated  his  brown  skull 
and  gleamed  in  his  gray  eyes  surrounded  bj'  circular 
wrinkles  (no  doubt  from  a  habit  of  always  blinking 
when  he  looked  across  the  country  in  full  sunlight), 
completed  the  characteristics  of  his  phj'siognom}'.  His 
lean  and  vigorous  hands  were  hairy,  knobbed,  and  claw- 
like, like  those  of  men  who  do  their  share  of  labor. 
His  personalitj'  was  agreeable  to  those  with  whom  he 
had  to  do,  for  he  wrapped  it  in  a  misleading  gayety ; 
he  knew  how  to  talk  a  great  deal  without  saying  a 
word  of  what  he  meant  to  keep  unsaid.  He  wrote 
little,  so  as  to  denj-  anything  that  escaped  him  which 
might  prove  unfavorable  in  its  after  effects  upon  his 
interests.  His  books  and  papers  were  kept  by  a 
cashier,  —  an  honest  man,  whom  men  of  Gaubertin's 
stamp  always  seek  to  g(it  hold  of,  and  whom  they 
make,  in  their  own  selfish  interests,  their  first  dupe. 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  359 

When  Rigou's  little  green  chaise  appeared,  towards 
twelve  o'clock,  in  the  broad  avenue  which  skirts  the 
river,  Gaubertin,  in  cap,  boots,  and  jacket,  was  return- 
ing from  the  wharves.  He  hastened  his  steps,  —  feeling 
very  sure  that  Rigou's  object  in  coming  over  could 
only  be  ''  the  great  affair." 

"Good  morning,  gendarme;  good  morning,  paunch 
of  gall  and  wisdom,"  he  said,  giving  a  little  slap  to 
the  stomachs  of  his  two  visitors.  "  We  have  business 
to  talk  over,  and,  faith !  we  '11  do  it  glass  in  hand ; 
that's  the  true  way  to  take  things." 

*'  If  you  do  3'our  business  that  way,  you  ought  to 
be  fatter  than  you  are,"  said  Rigou. 

*'I  work  too  hard;  I'm  not  like  you  two,  confined 
to  the  house  and  bewitched  there,  like  old  dotards. 
Well,  well,  after  all  that 's  the  best  way  ;  you  can  do  your 
business  comfortably  in  an  arm-chair,  with  3'our  back 
to  the  fire  and  your  belly  at  table ;  custom  goes  to  you, 
I  have  to  go  after  it.  But  now,  come  in,  come  in  !  the 
house  is  yours  for  the  time  you  stay." 

A  servant,  in  blue  Uvery  edged  with  scarlet,  took 
the  horse  by  the  bridle  and  led  him  into  the  courtyard, 
where  were  the  offices  and  the  stable. 

Gaubertin  left  his  guests  to  walk  about  the  garden 
for  a  moment,  while  he  went  to  give  his  orders  and 
arrange  about  the  breakfast. 

*'  Well,  my  wolves,"  he  said,  as  he  returned,  rubbing 
his  hands,  "the  gendarmerie  of  Soulanges  were  seen 
this  morning  at  daybreak,  marching  towards  Conches  ; 
no  doubt  they  mean  to  arrest  the  peasants  for  depreda- 
tions ;  ha,  ha!  things  are  getting  warm,  warm!  By 
this  time,"  he  added,  looking  at  his  watch,  "  those  fel- 
lows may  have  been  arrested." 


3G0  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

"Probably,"  said  Rigou. 

"Well,  what  do  you  all  say  over  there?  Has  any- 
thing been  decided?" 

"What  is  there  to  decide?"  asked  Rigou.  "We 
have  no  part  in  it,"  he  added,  looking  at  Soudr}^ 

"How  do  3'ou  mean  nothing  to  decide?  If  Les 
Aigues  is  sold  as  the  result  of  our  coalition,  who  is  to 
gain  five  or  six  hundred  thousand  francs  out  of  it? 
Do  you  expect  me  to,  all  alone?  No,  my  inside  is  not 
strong  enough  to  spit  up  two  millions,  with  three  chil- 
dren to  establish,  and  a  wife  who  has  n't  the  first  idea 
of  the  value  of  money ;  no,  I  must  have  associates. 
Here 's  the  gendarme,  he  has  plentj'  of  funds  all  ready. 
I  know  he  does  n't  hold  a  single  mortgage  that  is  n't 
ready  to  mature ;  he  only  lends  now  on  notes  at  sight 
which  I  endorse.  I  '11  go  into  this  thing  to  the  amount 
of  eight  hundred  thousand  francs  ;  my  son,  the  judge, 
two  hundred  thousand  ;  and  I  count  on  the  gendarme 
for  two  hundred  thousand  more ;  now,  how  much  will 
you  put  in,  skull-cap?" 

"  All  the  rest,"  replied  Rigou,  stiflfly. 

"  The  devil !  well,  I  wish  I  had  m}-  hand  where  j'our 
heart  is  !  "  exclaimed  Gaubertin.  "  Now  what  are  you 
going  to  do?" 

"  Whatever  you  do  ;  tell  your  plan." 

"My  plan,"  said  Gaubertin,  "is  to  take  double,  and 
sell  half  to  the  Conches,  and  Cerneux,  and  Blangy 
folks  who  want  to  bu}'.  Soudry  has  his  clients,  and  you 
3'ours,  and  I,  mine.  That 's  not  the  diflScult}'.  The 
thing  is,  how  are  we  going  to  arrange  among  ourselves  ? 
How  shall  we  divide  up  the  great  lots  ?  " 

"Nothing  easier,"  said  Rigou.  "We'll  each  take 
what  we  like  best.     I,  for  one,  shall  stand  in  nobodj's 


Sons  of  the  Soil  361 

waj' ;  I  '11  take  the  woods  in  common  with  Sondr}^  and 
niy  son-in-law ;  the  timber  has  been  so  injured  that  you 
won't  care  for  it  now,  and  you  may  have  all  the  rest. 
Faith,  it  is  worth  the  mone}^  you  '11  put  into  it !  " 

' '  Will  you  sign  that  agreement  ?  "  said  Soudry. 

"A  written  agreement  is  worth  nothing,"  replied 
Gaubertin.  "  Besides,  you  know  I  am  playing  above 
board  ;  I  have  perfect  confidence  in  Rigou,  and  he  shall 
be  the  purchaser." 

*'  That  will  satisfy  me,"  said  Rigou. 

I  will  make  onlj^  one  condition,"  added  Gaubertin. 

I  must  have  the  pavilion  of  the  Rendezvous,  with  all 
its  appurtenances,  and  fifty  acres  of  the  surrounding 
land.  I  shall  make  it  my  countrj'-house,  and  it  will 
be  near  m}'  woods.  Madame  Gaubertin  —  Madame 
Isaure,  for  that 's  what  she  wants  people  to  call  her — • 
says  she  shall  make  it  her  villa." 

"  I  'm  willing,"  said  Rigou. 

"  Well,  now,  between  ourselves,'*  continued  Gau- 
bertin, after  looking  about  him  on  all  sides  and  making 
sure  that  no  one  could  overhear  him,  "do  you  think 
they  are  capable  of  striking  a  blow?" 

'*  Such  as?"  asked  Rigou,  who  never  allowed  him- 
self to  understand  a  hint. 

"  Well,  if  the  worst  of  the  band,  the  best  shot,  sent 
a  ball  whistling  round  the  ears  of  the  count  — just  to 
frighten  him?  " 

*'  He  's  a  man  to  rush  at  an  assailant  and  collar  him." 

"Michaud,  then." 

"  Michaud  would  do  nothing  at  the  moment,  but  he'd 
watch  and  sp}^  till  he  found  out  the  man  and  those  who 
instigated  him." 

"  You  are  right,"  said  Gaubertin;  "  those  peasants 


382  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

must  make  a  riot  and  a  few  must  be  sent  to  the  galle3-s. 
Well,  so  mucli  the  better  for  us  ;  the  authorities  will 
catch  the  worst,  whom  we  shall  want  to  get  rid  of  after 
they  've  done  the  work.  There  are  those  blackguards, 
the  Tonsards  and  Bonnebault  —  " 

"  Tonsard  is  ready  for  mischief,"  said  Soudr}^,  "I 
know  that ;  and  we  '11  work  him  up  bj^  Vaudoyer  and 
Courtecuisse." 

"  1  '11  answer  for  Courtecuisse,"  said  Rigou. 

*'  And  I  hold  Vaudoyer  in  the  hollow  of  my  hand." 

"Be  cautious!"  said  Rigou;  "before  everything 
else  be  cautious." 

"  Now,  papa  skull-cap,  do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that 
there  's  any  harm  in  speaking  of  things  as  thej^  are  ? 
Is  it  we  who  are  indicting  and  arresting,  or  gleaning  or 
depredating  ?  If  Monsieur  le  comte  knows  what  he  's 
about  and  leases  the  woods  to  the  receiver-general  it  is 
all  up  with  our  schemes,  — '  Farewell  baskets,  the  vintage 
is  o'er  ; '  in  that  case  you  will  lose  more  than  I.  What 
we  say  here  is  between  ourselves  and  for  ourselves  ;  for 
I  certainlj^  would  n't  sa}'  a  word  to  Vaudoyer  that  I 
could  n't  repeat  to  God  and  man.  But  it  is  not  for- 
bidden, I  suppose,  to  profit  by  an}-  events  that  may 
take  place.  The  peasantrj'  of  this  canton  are  hot- 
headed ;  the  general's  exactions,  his  severit}',  Michaud's 
persecutions,  and  those  of  his  keepers  have  exasperated 
them  ;  to-day  things  have  come  to  a  crisis  and  I  '11  bet 
there  's  a  rumpus  going  on  now  with  the  gendarmerie. 
And  so,  let's  go  and  breakfast." 

Madame  Gaubertin  came  into  the  garden  just  then. 
She  was  a  rather  fair  woman  with  long  curls,  called 
English,  hanging  down  her  cheeks,  who  played  the  style 
of  sentimental  virtue,  pretended  never  to  have  known 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  363 

love,  talked  platonics  to  all  the  men  about  her,  and 
kept  the  prosecuting-attorne}'  at  her  beck  and  call.  She 
was  given  to  caps  with  large  bows,  but  preferred  to 
wear  only  her  own  hair.  She  danced,  and  at  fort}'- 
five  years  of  age  had  the  mincing  manners  of  a  girl ; 
her  feet,  however,  were  large  and  her  hands  frightful. 
She  wished  to  be  called  Isaure,  because  among  her 
other  oddities  and  absurdities  she  had  the  taste  to 
repudiate  the  name  of  Gaubertin  as  vulgar.  Her  e3'es 
were  light  and  her  hair  of  an  undecided  color,  some- 
thing like  dirty  nankeen.  Such  as  she  was,  she  was 
taken  as  a  model  by  a  number  of  young  ladies,  who 
stabbed  the  skies  with  their  glances,  and  posed  as 
angels. 

"  Well,  gentlemen,"  she  said,  bowing,  "  I  have  some 
strange  news  for  you.    The  gendarmerie  have  returned." 

''  Did  they  make  any  prisoners?  " 

"  None ;  the  general,  it  seems,  had  previously  ob- 
tained the  pardon  of  the  depredators.  It  was  given  in 
honor  of  this  happy  anniversary  of  the  king's  restoration 
to  France." 

The  three  associates  looked  at  each  other. 

*'  He  is  cleverer  than  I  thought  for,  that  big  cuiras- 
sier!  "  said  Gaubertin.  ''Well,  come  to  breakfast. 
After  all,  the  game  is  not  lost,  only  postponed ;  it  is 
your  affair  now,  Rigou." 

Soudry  and  Rigou  drove  back  disappointed,  not 
being  able  as  yet  to  plan  any  other  catastrophe  to  serve 
their  ends  and  relying,  as  Gaubertin  advised,  on  wliat 
might  turn  up.  Like  certain  Jacobins  at  the  outset  of 
the  Revolution  who  were  furious  with  Louis  XVI.'s  con- 
ciliations, and  who  provoked  severe  measures  at  court 
in  the  hope  of  producing  anarchy,  which  to  them  meant 


364  Sons  of  the  Soil 

fortune  and  power,  the  formidable  enemies  of  General 
Montcornet  staked  their  present  hopes  on  the  severit}' 
which  Michaud  and  his  keepers  were  likelj'  to  emplo}' 
against  future  depredators.  Gaubertin  promised  them 
his  assistance,  without  explaining  who  were  his  co- 
operators,  for  he  did  not  wish  them  to  know  about  his 
relations  with  Sibilet.  Nothing  can  equal  the  prudence 
of  a  man  of  Gaubertin's  stamp,  unless  it  be  that  of  an 
ex-gendarme  or  an  unfrocked  priest.  This  plot  could 
not  have  been  brought  to  a  successful  issue,  —  a  suc- 
cessfully evil  issue,  —  unless  by  three  such  men  as 
these,  steeped  in  hatred  and  self-interest. 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  365 


V. 

VICTORY  WITHOUT  A  FIGHT. 

Madame  Michaud's  fears  were  the  effect  of  that 
second  sight  which  comes  of  true  passion.  Exclu- 
sively absorbed  by  one  only  being,  the  soul  finally 
grasps  the  whole  moral  world  which  surrounds  that 
being ;  it  sees  clearly.  A  woman  when  she  loves  feels 
the  same  presentiments  which  disquiet  her  later  when  a 
mother. 

While  the  poor  3'oung  woman  listened  to  the  confused 
voices  coming  from  afar  across  an  unknown  space,  a 
scene  was  really  happening  in  the  tavern  of  the  Grand- 
I-Vert  which  threatened  her  husband's  life. 

About  five  o'clock  that  morning  early  risers  had  seen 
the  gendarmerie  of  Soulanges  on  its  wa}^  to  Conches. 
The  news  circulated  rapidly  ;  and  those  whom  it  chiefly 
interested  were  much  surprised  to  learn  from  others,  who 
lived  on  high  ground,  that  a  detachment  commanded  by 
the  lieutenant  of  Ville-aux-Fayes  had  marched  through 
the  forest  of  Les  Aigues.  As  it  was  a  Monda}',  there 
were  already  good  reasons  why  the  peasants  should  be 
at  the  tavern  ;  but  it  was  also  the  eve  of  the  anniversaiy 
of  the  restoration  of  the  Bourbons,  and  though  the  fre- 
quenters of  Tonsard's  den  had  no  need  of  that  "  august 
cause "  (as  they  said  in  those  days)  to  explain  their 
presence  at  the  Grand-I-Vert,  they  did  not  fail  to  make 
the  most  of  it  if  the  mere  shadow  of  an  official  func- 
tionary appeared. 


366  Sons  of  the  Soil 

Vaudoyer,  Courtecuisse,  Tonsard  and  his  family, 
Godaiii,  and  an  old  vine-dresser  named  Laroclie,  were 
there  early  in  the  morning.  The  latter  was  a  man  wlio 
scratched  a  living  from  day  to  da}' ;  he  was  one  of  the 
delinquents  collected  in  Blangy  under  the  sort  of  con- 
scription invented  b}'  Sibilet  and  Courtecuisse  to  dis- 
gust the  general  by  the  results  of  his  indictments. 
Blang}^  had  supplied  three  men,  twelve  women,  also 
eight  girls  and  five  boys  for  whom  parents  were  an- 
swerable, all  of  whom  were  in  a  condition  of  pauperism  ; 
but  they  were  the  only  ones  who  could  be  found  that 
were  so.  The  year  1823  had  been  a  very  profitable  one 
to  the  peasantr\',  and  1826  was  likely,  through  the  enor- 
mous quantity  of  wine  yielded,  to  bring  them  in  a  good 
deal  of  money ;  add  to  this  the  works  at  Les  Aigues, 
undertaken  b}'  the  general,  which  had  put  a  great  deal 
more  in  circulation  throughout  the  three  districts  which 
bordered  on  the  estate.  It  had  therefore  been  quite 
difficult  to  find  in  Blang}',  Conches,  and  Cerneux,  one 
hundred  and  twenty  indigent  persons  against  whom  to 
bring  the  suits ;  and  in  order  to  do  so,  the}'  had  taken 
old  women,  mothers,  and  grandmothers  of  those  who 
owned  property  but  who  possessed  nothing  of  their 
own,  like  Tonsard's  mother.  Laroche,  an  old  laborer, 
possessed  absolutely'  nothing ;  he  was  not,  like  Ton- 
sard,  hot-blooded  and  vicious,  —  his  motive-power  was 
a  cold,  dull  hatred  ;  he  toiled  in  silence  with  a  sullen 
face  ;  work  was  intolerable  to  him,  but  he  had  to  work 
to  live  ;  his  features  were  hard  and  their  expression  re- 
pulsive. Though  sixt}'  years  old,  he  was  still  strong, 
except  that  his  back  was  bent ;  he  saw  no  future  before 
him,  no  spot  that  he  could  call  his  own,  and  he  envied 
those  who  possessed  the  land ;  for  this  reason  he  had 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  367 

no  pity  on  the  forests  of  Les  Aigues,  and  took  pleasure 
ill  despoiling  them  uselessl}'. 

"  Will  tbey  be  allowed  to  put  us  in  prison?"  he  was 
saving.  "  After  Conches  they '11  come  to  Blangy.  I'm 
an  old  offender,  and  I  sliall  get  three  months." 

"  What  can  we  do  against  the  gendarmerie,  old 
drunkard  ?  "  said  Vaudoyer. 

''  Wh}' !  cut  the  legs  of  their  horses  with  our  scythes. 
That  '11  bring  them  down  ;  their  muskets  are  not  loaded, 
and  when  they  find  us  ten  to  one  against  them  they  'II 
decamp.  If  the  three  villages  all  rose  and  killed  two 
or  three  gendarmes,  they  could  n't  guillotine  the  whole 
of  us.  They  'd  have  to  give  way,  as  they  did  on  the 
other  side  of  Burgundy,  where  they  sent  a  regiment. 
Bah  !  that  regiment  came  back  again,  and  the  peasants 
cut  the  woods  just  as  much  as  they  ever  did." 

*'If  we  kill,"  said  Vaudoyer;  "it  is  better  to  kill 
one  man  ;  the  question  is,  how  to  do  it  without  danger 
and  frighten  those  Arminacs  so  that  they  '11  be  driven 
out  of  the  place." 

''  Which  one  shall  we  kill?"  asked  Laroche. 
*'  Michaud,"  said  Courtecuisse.  "  Vaudoyer  is  right, 
he 's  perfectly  right.  You  '11  see  that  when  a  keeper  is 
sent  to  the  shades  there  won't  be  one  of  them  willing 
to  stay  even  in  broad  daylight  to  watch  us.  Now 
they  're  there  night  and  day,  —  demons  !  " 

"Wherever  one  goes,"  said  old  Mother  Tonsard, — 
who  was  seventy-eight  j^ears  old,  and  presented  a 
parchment  face  hone3'-combed  with  the  small-pox, 
lighted  by  a  pair  of  green  eyes,  and  framed  with 
dirt}'- white  hair,  which  escaped  in  strands  from  a  red 
handkerchief,  —  "wherever  one  goes,  there  thev  are! 
they  stop  us,  they  open  our  bundles,  and  if  there 's  a 


368  Sons  of  the  Soil 

single  branch,  a  single  twig  of  a  miserable  hazel,  they 
seize  the  whole  bundle,  and  they  say  they  '11  arrest  us. 
Ha,  the  villains  !  there 's  no  deceiving  them  ;  if  they 
suspect  you,  you've  got  to  undo  the  bundle.  Dogs! 
all  three  are  not  worth  a  farthing!  Yes,  kill  'em,  and 
it  won't  ruin  France,  I  tell  3'ou  !  " 

"  Little  Vatel  is  not  so  bad,"  said  Madame  Tonsard. 

*'He!"  said  Laroche,  "he  does  his  business,  like 
the  others ;  when  there 's  a  joke  going  he  '11  joke  with 
3'ou,  but  you  are  none  the  better  with  him  for  that. 
He 's  worse  than  the  rest,  —  heartless  to  poor  folks,  like 
Michaud  himself." 

"  Michaud  has  got  a  pretty  wife,  though,"  said 
Nicolas  Tonsard. 

"She's  with  young,"  said  the  old  woman;  "  and  if 
this  thing  goes  on  there  '11  be  a  queer  kind  of  baptism 
for  the  little  one  when  she  calves." 

"Oh!  those  Arminacs !  "  cried  Marie  Tonsard; 
"there's  no  laughing  with  them;  and  if  3'ou  did, 
they  'd  threaten  to  arrest  3'ou. " 

"You've  tried  your  hand  at  cajoling  them,  have 
3'Ou?"  said  Courtecuisse. 

"  You  ma}^  bet  on  that." 

"  Well,"  said  Tonsard,  with  a  determined  air,  "  they 
are  men  like  other  men,  and  the}'  can  be  got  rid  of." 

"  But  I  tell  3'Ou,"  said  Marie,  continuing  her  topic, 
"they  won't  be  cajoled  ;  I  don't  know  what's  the  mat- 
ter with  them  ;  that  bully  at  the  pavilion,  he 's  married, 
but  Vatel,  Gaillard,  and  Steingel  are  not ;  they  've  not 
a  woman  belonging  to  them  ;  indeed,  there 's  not  a 
woman  in  the  place  who  would  marr}'  them." 

"  Well,  we  shall  see  how  things  go  at  the  harvest 
and  the  vintage,"  said  Tonsard. 


Sons  of  the  Soil  369 

*'  Thc}^  can't  stop  the  gleaning,"  said  the  old  woman. 

"  I  don't  know  that,"  remarked  Madame  Tonsard. 
*'  Groison  said  that  the  mayor  was  going  to  pubUsh  a 
notice  that  no  one  should  glean  without  a  certificate  of 
pauperism ;  and  who 's  to  give  that  certificate  ?  Him- 
self, of  course.  He  won't  give  many,  I  tell  3'ou  !  And 
the}^  say  he  is  going  to  issue  an  order  that  no  one  shall 
enter  the  fields  till  the  caHs  are  all  loaded." 

"  Wh}',  the  fellow's  a  pestilence!"  cried  Tonsard, 
beside  himself  with  rage. 

*'  I  heard  that  only  j^esterday,"  said  Madame  Ton- 
sard.  "  I  oflfered  Groison  a  glass  of  brandy  to  get 
something  out  of  him." 

''Groison!  there's  another  lucky  fellow!"  said 
Vaudoyer,  ''  they've  built  him  a  house  and  given  him 
a  good  wife,  and  he  's  got  an  income  and  clothes  fit  for 
a  king.  There  was  I,  field-keeper  for  twenty  years, 
and  all  I  got  was  the  rheumatism." 

''Yes,  he's  very  lucky,"  said  Godain,  "he  owns 
property  —  " 

"And  we  go  without,  like  the  fools  that  we  are," 
said  Vaudoyer.  "  Come,  let's  be  off  and  find  out 
what 's  going  on  at  Conches ;  they  are  not  so  patient 
over  there  as  we  are." 

"  Come  on,"  said  Laroche,  who  was  none  too  steady 
on  his  legs.  "  If  I  don't  exterminate  one  or  two  of 
those  fellows  may  I  lose  my  name." 

"You!"  said  Tonsard,  "^ou'd  let  them  put  the 
whole  district  in  prison  ;  but  I  —  if  they  dare  to  touch 
m}^  old  mother,  there  's  ni}'  gun  and  it  never  misses." 

"  Well,"  said  Laroche  to  Vaudoyer,  "  I  tell  you  that 
if  they  make  a  single  prisoner  at  Conches  one  gendarme 
Khali  fall." 

24 


370  Sons  of  the  Soil 

''  He  has  said  it,  old  Laroche  !  "  cried  Coiirtecuisse. 

''He  has  said  it,"  remarked  Vaudoyer,  "but  he 
has  n't  done  it  and  he  won't  do  it.  What  good  would 
it  do  to  get  3'ourself  guillotined  for  some  gendarme  or 
other?     No,  if  you  kill,  I  say,  kill  Michaud." 

During  this  scene  Catherine  Tonsard  stood  sentinel 
at  the  door  to  warn  the  drinkers  to  keep  silent  if  any 
one  passed.  In  spite  of  their  half-drunken  legs  they 
sprang  rather  than  walked  out  of  the  tavern,  and  their 
bellicose  temper  started  them  at  a  good  pace  on  the 
road  to  Conches,  which  led  for  over  a  mile  along  the 
park  wall  of  Les  Aigues. 

Conches  was  a  true  Bargundian  village,  with  one 
street,  which  was  crossed  by  the  main  road.  The 
houses  were  built  either  of  brick  or  of  cobblestones,  and 
were  squalid  in  aspect.  Following  the  mail-road  from 
Ville-aux-Fayes,  the  village  was  seen  from  the  rear  and 
there  it  presented  rather  a  picturesque  effect.  Between 
the  road  and  the  RonqueroUes  woods,  which  continued 
those  of  Les  Aigues  and  crowned  the  heights,  flowed  a 
little  river,  and  several  houses,  rather  prettily  grouped, 
enlivened  the  scene.  The  church  and  the  parsonage 
stood  alone  and  were  seen  from  the  park  of  Les  Aigues, 
which  came  nearly  up  to  them.  In  front  of  the  church 
was  a  square  bordered  by  trees,  where  the  conspirators 
of  the  Grand-I-Vert  saw  the  gendarmerie  and  imme- 
diatel}^  hastened  their  already  hasty  steps.  Just  then 
three  men  on  horseback  rode  rapidlj^  out  of  the  park  of 
Les  Aigues  and  the  peasants  at  once  recognized  the 
general,  his  groom,  and  Michaud  the  bailiff,  who  came 
at  a  gallop  into  the  square.  Tonsard  and  his  party 
arrived  a  minute  or  two  after  them.  The  delinquents, 
men   and   women,  had   made  no  resistance,  and  were 


Sons  of  the  Soil  371 

standing  between  five  of  the  Soulanges  gendarmes  and 
fifteen  of  those  from  Ville-aux-Fayes.  The  whole  vil- 
lage had  assembled.  Tlie  fathers,  mothers,  and  children 
of  the  prisoners  were  going  and  coming  and  bringing 
them  what  thej'  might  want  in  prison.  It  was  a  curious 
scene,  that  of  a  population  one  and  all  exasperated,  but 
nearly  all  silent,  as  though  they  had  made  up  their 
minds  to  a  course  of  action.  The  old  women  and  the 
3'oung  ones  alone  spoke.  The  children,  boys  and  girls, 
were  perched  on  piles  of  wood  and  heaps  of  stones  to 
get  a  better  sight  of  what  was  happening. 

''The}'  have  chosen  their  time,  those  hussars  of  the 
guillotine,"  said  one  old  woman;  "  they  are  making  a 
fete  of  it." 

"  Are  3'ou  going  to  let  'em  carry  oflf  3^our  man  like 
that?  How  shall  jou  manage  to  live  for  three  months? 
—  the  best  of  the  year,  too,  when  he  could  earn  so 
much." 

"It's  they  who  rob  us,"  replied  the  woman,  looking 
at  the  gendarmes  with  a  threatening  air. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that,  old  woman?"  said  the 
sergeant.  *'  If  you  insult  us  it  won't  take  long  to  settle 
you." 

*'  I  meant  nothing,"  said  the  old  woman,  in  a  humble 
and  piteous  tone. 

"  I  heard  you  say  something  just  now  you  may  have 
cause  to  repent  of." 

*'Come,  come,  be  calm,  all  of  j'ou,"  said  the  ma3'or 
of  Conches,  who  was  also  the  postmaster.  '•  What  the 
devil  is  the  use  of  talking?  These  men,  as  3'ou  know 
very  well,  are  under  orders  and  must  obey." 

''That's  true;  it's  the  owner  of  Les  Aigues  who 
persecutes  us  —    But  patience  !  " 


372  Sons  of  the  Soil 

Just  then  the  general  rode  into  the  square  and  his 
arrival  caused  a  few  groans  which  did  not  trouble  him 
in  the  least.  He  rode  straight  up  to  the  lieutenant  in 
command,  and  after  saying  a  few  words  gave  him  a 
paper ;  the  officer  then  turned  to  his  men  and  said : 
' '  Release  your  prisoners ;  the  general  has  obtained 
their  pardon." 

General  Montcornet  was  then  speaking  to  the  mayor ; 
after  a  few  moments'  conversation  in  a  low  tone,  the 
latter,  addressing  the  delinquents,  who  expected  to  sleep 
in  prison  and  were  a  good  deal  surprised  to  find  them- 
selves free,  said  to  them  :  — 

''My  friends,  thank  Monsieur  le  comte.  You  owe 
your  release  to  him.  He  went  to  Paris  and  obtained 
your  pardon  in  honor  of  the  anniversary  of  the  king's 
restoration.  I  hope  that  in  future  3'ou  will  conduct 
yourself  properly  to  a  man  who  has  behaved  so  well 
to  you,  and  that  you  will  in  future  respect  his  property. 
Long  live  the  King !  " 

The  peasants  shouted  "Long  live  the  King!  "  with 
enthusiasm,  to  avoid  shouting,  "  Hurrah  for  the  Comte 
de  Montcornet !  " 

The  scene  was  a  bit  of  policy  arranged  between  the 
general,  the  prefect,  and  the  attornej^-general ;  for  they 
were  all  anxious,  while  showing  enough  firmness  to 
keep  the  local  authorities  up  to  their  duty  and  awe  the 
country-people,  to  be  as  gentle  as  possible,  fulh'  realiz- 
ing as  they  did  the  difficulties  of  the  question.  In  fact, 
if  resistance  had  occurred,  the  government  would  have 
been  in  a  tight  place.  As  Laroche  trui^^  said,  they  could 
not  guillotine  or  even  convict  a  whole  communit3\ 

The  general  invited  the  mayor  of  Conches,  the  lieu- 
tenant, and  the  sergeant  to  breakfast.    The  conspirators 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  373 

of  the  Grand-I-Vert  adjourned  to  the  tavern  of  Conches, 
where  the  delinquents  spent  in  drink  the  money  their 
relations  had  given  them  to  take  to  prison,  sharing  it 
with  the  Blangy  people,  who  were  naturallj'  part  of  the 
wedding,  —  the  word '' wedding"  being  applied  indis- 
criminately in  Burgundy  to  all  such  rejoicings.  To 
drink,  quarrel,  fight,  eat,  and  go  home  drunk  and  sick, 
—  that  is  a  wedding  to  these  peasants. 

The  general,  who  had  come  by  the  park,  took  his 
guests  back  through  the  forest  that  they  might  see  for 
themselves  the  injury  done  to  the  timber,  and  so  judge 
of  the  importance  of  the  question. 

Just  as  Rigou  and  Soudry  were  on  their  wa}'  back  to 
Blangy,  the  count  and  countess,  Emile  Blonde t,  the 
lieutenant  of  gendarmerie,  the  sergeant,  and  the  mayor 
of  Conches  were  finishing  their  breakfast  in  the  splen- 
did dining-room  where  Bouret's  luxury  had  left  the 
delightful  traces  already  described  by  Blondet  in  his 
letter  to  Nathan. 

*'  It  would  be  a  terrible  pity  to  abandon  this  beauti- 
ful home,"  said  the  heutenant,  who  had  never  before 
been  at  Les  Aigues,  and  who  was  glancing  over  a  glass 
of  champagne  at  the  circling  nymphs  that  supported 
the  ceiling. 

*'  We  intend  to  defend  it  to  the  death,"  said  Blondet. 

"  If  I  say  that,"  continued  the  lieutenant,  looking  at 
his  sergeant  as  if  to  enjoin  silence,  "it  is  because  the 
general's  enemies  are  not  only  among  the  peasantry  —  " 

The  worthy  man  was  quite  moved  b}^  the  excellence 
of  the  breakfast,  the  magnificence  of  the  silver  service, 
the  imperial  luxur}'  that  surrounded  him,  and  Blondet's 
clever  talk  excited  him  as  much  as  the  champagne  he 
had  imbibed. 


374  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

"  Enemies  !  have  I  enemies?"  said  the  general,  sur- 
prised. 

'*  He,  so  kind  !  "  added  the  countess. 

"  But  3'ou  are  on  bad  terms  with  our  major,  Monsieur 
Gaubertin,"  said  the  lieutenant.  ''  It  would  be  wise, 
for  the  sake  of  the  future,  to  be  reconciled  with  him." 

"With  him!"  cried  the  count.  "Then  you  don't 
know  that  he  was  mj-  former  steward,  and  a  swindler !  " 

"  A  swindler  no  longer,"  said  the  lieutenant,  "  for  he 
is  mayor  of  Ville-aux-Fayes." 

"  Ha,  ha  !  "  laughed  Blondet,  "  the  lieutenant's  wit  is 
keen  ;  evidently  a  mayor  is  essentially  an  honest  man." 

The  lieutenant,  convinced  by  the  count's  words  that 
it  was  useless  to  attempt  to  enlighten  him,  said  no  more 
on  that  subject,  and  the  conversation  changed. 


iSons  of  the  Soil  375 

VI. 

THE  FOREST  AND  THE  HARVEST. 

The  scene  at  Conches  had,  apparently,  a  good  effect 
on  the  peasantr}^ ;  on  the  other  hand,  the  count's  faith- 
ful keepers  were  more  than  ever  watchful  that  onl}'  dead 
wood  should  be  gathered  in  the  forest  of  Les  Aigues. 
But  for  the  last  twenty  years  the  woods  had  been  so 
thoroughly  cleared  out  that  very  little  else  than  live 
wood  was  now  there  ;  and  this  the  peasantry  set  about 
killing,  in  preparation  for  winter,  by  a  simple  process, 
the  results  of  which  could  only  be  discovered  in  the 
course  of  time.  Tonsard's  mother  went  daily  into  the 
forest ;  the  keepers  saw  her  enter ;  knew  where  she 
would  come  out ;  watched  for  her  and  made  her  open 
her  bundle,  where,  to  be  sure,  were  only  fallen  branches, 
dried  chips,  and  broken  and  withered  twigs.  The  old 
woman  would  whine  and  complain  at  the  distance  she 
had  to  go  at  her  age  to  gather  such  a  miserable  bundle 
of  fagots.  But  she  did  not  tell  that  she  had  been  in 
the  thickest  part  of  the  wood  and  had  removed  the  earth 
at  the  base  of  certain  young  trees,  round  which  she  had 
then  cut  off  a  ring  of  bark,  replacing  the  earth,  moss, 
and  dead  leaves  just  as  the}^  were  before  she  touched 
tliem.  It  was  impossible  that  any  one  could  discover 
this  annular  incision,  made,  not  like  a  cut,  but  more 
like  the  ripping  or  gnawing  of  animals  or  those  destruc- 
tive insects  called  in  different  regions  borers,  or  turks, 
or  white  worms,  which  are  |ihe  first  stage  of  cockchafers. 


3Y6  Sons  of  the  Soil 

These  destructive  pests  are  fond  of  the  bark  of  trees ; 
they  get  between  the  bark  and  the  sap-wood  and  eat  their 
wa3^  round.  If  the  tree  is  large  enough  for  the  insect  to 
pass  into  its  second  state  (of  larvae,  in  which  it  remains 
dormant  till  its  second  metamorphose)  before  it  has 
gone  round  the  trunk,  the  tree  lives,  because  so  long  as 
even  a  small  bit  of  the  sap-wood  remains  covered  by 
the  bark,  the  tree  will  still  grow  and  recover  itself.  To 
realize  to  what  a  degree  entomology  affects  agriculture, 
horticulture,  and  all  earth  products,  we  must  know  that 
naturalists  like  Latreille,  the  Comte  Dejean,  Klugg  of 
Berlin,  Gene  of  Turin,  etc.,  find  that  the  vast  majority 
of  all  known  insects  live  at  the  sacrifice  of  vegetation  ; 
that  the  coleoptera  (a  catalogue  of  which  has  lately 
been  published  by  Monsieur  Dejean)  have  twenty-seven 
thousand  species,  and  that,  in  spite  of  the  most  earnest 
research  on  the  part  of  entomologists  of  all  countries, 
there  is  an  enormous  number  of  species  of  whom  they 
cannot  trace  the  triple  transformations  which  belong  to 
all  insects ;  that  there  is,  in  short,  not  onl}'  a  special 
insect  to  ever}'  plant,  but  that  all  terrestrial  products, 
however  much  they  may  be  manipulated  by  human  in- 
dustr}^,  have  their  particular  parasite.  Thus  flax,  after 
covering  the  human  body  and  hanging  the  human  being, 
after  roaming  the  world  on  the  back  of  an  army,  be- 
comes writing-paper ;  and  those  who  write  or  who  rend 
are  familiar  with  the  habits  and  morals  of  an  insect 
called  the  "  paper-louse,"  an  insect  of  really  marvellous 
celerity  and  behavior ;  it  undergoes  its  mysterious 
transformations  in  a  ream  of  white  paper  which  you 
have  carefuU}'  put  away ;  you  see  it  gliding  and  frisk- 
ing along  in  its  shining  robe,  that  looks  like  isinglass 
or  mica,  —  trulv  a  little  fish  of  another  element. 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  377 

The  borer  is  the  despair  of  the  land-owner ;  he  works 
underground ;  no  Sicilian  vespers  for  him  until  he  be- 
comes a  coclichafer !  If  the  populations  only  realized 
with  what  untold  disasters  they  are  threatened  in  case 
they  let  the  cockchafers  and  the  caterpillars  get  the 
upper  hand,  they  would  pay  more  attention  than  they 
do  to  municipal  regulations. 

Holland  came  near  perishing  ;  its  dikes  were  under- 
mined by  the  teredo,  and  science  is  unable  to  discover 
the  insect  from  which  that  mollusk  derives,  just  as 
science  still  remains  ignorant  of  the  metamorphoses  of 
the  cochineal.  The  ergot,  or  spur,  of  rye  is  apparently 
a  population  of  insects  where  the  genius  of  science  has 
be  Ml  able,  so  far,  to  discover  only  one  slight  movement. 
Thus,  while  awaiting  the  harvest  and  the  gleaning,  fifty 
old  women  imitated  the  borer  at  the  feet  of  five  or  six 
hundred  trees  which  were  fated  to  become  skeletons  and 
to  put  forth  no  more  leaves  in  the  spring.  They  were 
carefully  chosen  in  the  least  accessible  places,  so  that 
the  surrounding  branches  concealed  them. 

Who  conve3'ed  the  secret  information  b}'  which  this 
was  done?  No  one.  Courtecuisse  happened  to  com- 
plain in  Tonsard's  tavern  of  having  found  a  tree  wilting 
in  his  garden  ;  it  seemed  he  said,  to  have  a  disease,  and 
he  suspected  a  borer ;  for  he,  Courtecuisse,  knew  what 
borers  were,  and  if  they  once  circled  a  tree  just  below 
the  ground,  the  tree  died.  Thereupon  he  explained  the 
process.  The  old  women  at  once  set  to  work  at  the 
same  destruction,  with  the  mystery  and  cleverness  of 
gnomes  ;  and  their  efforts  were  doubled  by  the  rules 
now  enforced  b}'  the  mayor  of  Blangy  and  necessarily 
followed  by  the  mayors  of  the  adjoining  districts. 

The  great  laud-owners  of  the  department  applauded 


378  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

General  de  Montcornet's  course ;  and  the  prefect  in 
his  private  drawing-room  declared  that  if,  instead  of 
Uving  in  Paris,  other  land-owners  would  come  and  live 
on  their  estates  and  follow  such  a  course  together,  a 
solution  of  tlie  difficult}'  could  be  obtained ;  for  cer- 
tain measures,  added  the  prefect,  ought  to  be  taken, 
and  taken  in  concert,  modified  b}-  benefactions  and 
b}^  an  enlightened  philanthrop}',  such  as  ever}"  one 
could  see  actuated  General  Montcornet. 

The  general  and  his  wife,  assisted  by  the  abbe,  tried 
the  effects  of  such  benevolence.  They  studied  the  sub- 
ject, and  endeavored  to  show  by  incontestable  results 
to  those  who  pillaged  them  that  more  money  could  be 
made  by  legitimate  toil.  The}'  supplied  flax  and  paid 
for  the  spinning ;  the  countess  had  the  thread  woven 
into  linen  suitable  for  towels,  aprons,  and  coarse  nap- 
kins for  kitchen  use,  and  for  underclothing  for  the  very 
poor.  The  general  began  improvements  which  needed 
many  laborers,  and  he  employed  none  but  those  in  the 
adjoining  districts.  Sibilet  was  in  charge  of  the  works 
and  the  Abbe  Brossette  gave  the  countess  lists  of  the 
most  needy,  and  often  brought  them  to  her  himself. 
Madame  de  Montcornet  attended  to  these  matters  per- 
sonally in  the  great  antechamber  which  opened  upon 
the  portico.  It  was  a  beautiful  waiting-room,  floored 
with  squares  of  white  and  red  marble,  warmed  by  a 
porcelain  stove,  and  furnished  with  benches  covered 
with  red  plush. 

It  was  there  that  one  morning,  just  before  harvest, 
old  Mother  Tonsard  brought  her  granddaughter 
Catherine,  who  had  to  make,  she  said,  a  dreadful  con- 
fession, —  dreadful  for  the  honor  of  a  poor  but  honest 
family.     While  the  old  woman  addressed  the  countess 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  879 

Catherine  stood  in  an  attitude  of  conscious  guilt. 
Then  she  related  on  her  own  account  the  unfortunate 
''situation"  in  which  she  was  placed,  which  she  had 
confided  to  none  but  her  grandmother  ;  for  her  mother, 
she  knew,  would  turn  her  out,  and  her  father,  an  honor- 
able man,  might  kill  her.  If  she  onl}^  had  a  thousand 
fraiKJS  she  could  be  married  to  a  poor  laborer  named 
Godain,  who  knew  all,  and  who  loved  her  like  a 
brother ;  he  could  bu}*  a  poor  bit  of  ground  and  build 
a  cottage  if  she  had  that  sum.  It  was  ver}'  touching. 
The  countess  promised  the  money  ;  resolving  to  devote 
the  price  of  some  fancy  to  this  marriage.  The  happy 
marriages  of  Michaud  and  Groison  encouraged  her. 
Besides,  such  a  wedding  would  be  a  good  example  to 
the  peoj)le  of  the  neighborhood  and  stimulate  to  virtu- 
ous conduct.  The  marriage  of  Catherine  Tonsard  and 
Godain  was  accordingly  arranged  by  means  of  the 
countess's  thousand  francs. 

Another  time  a  horrible  old  woman,  Mother  Bonne- 
bault,  who  lived  in  a  hut  between  the  gate  of  Conches 
and  the  village,  brought  back  a  great  bundle  of  skeins 
of  linen  thread. 

"  Madame  la  comtesse  has  done  wonders,"  said  the 
abbe,  full  of  hope  as  to  the  moral  progress  of  his 
savages.  "That  old  woman  did  immense  damage  to 
your  woods,  but  now  she  has  no  time  for  it ;  she  stnys 
at  home  and  spins  from  morning  till  night ;  her  time 
is  all  taken  up  and  well  paid  for." 

Peace  reigned  everywhere.  Groison  made  ver}- 
satisfactory  reports ;  depredations  seemed  to  have 
ceased,  and  it  is  even  possible  that  the  state  of  the 
neighborhood  and  the  feeling  of  the  inhabitants  might 
really  have  changed  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  revenge- 


380  Sons  of  the  Soil 

ful  eagerness  of  Gauhertin,  the  cabals  of  the  leading 
societ}'  of  Soulanges,  and  the  intrigues  of  Rigou,  who 
one  and  all,  with  "the  affair"  in  view,  blew  the  embers 
of  hatred  and  crime  in  the  hearts  of  the  peasantry  of 
the  valle}^  des  Aigues. 

The  keepers  still  complained  of  finding  a  great  many 
branches  cut  with  shears  in  the  deeper  parts  of  the 
wood  and  left  to  dry,  evidently  as  a  provision  for  win- 
ter. They  watched  for  the  delinquents  without  ever 
being  able  to  catch  them.  The  count,  assisted  b}^ 
Groison,  had  given  certificates  of  pauperism  to  only 
thirty  or  forty  of  the  real  poor  of  the  district ;  but  the 
other  two  mayors  had  been  less  strict.  The  more 
clement  the  count  showed  himself  in  the  affair  at 
Conches  the  more  determined  he  was  to  enforce  the 
laws  about  gleaning,  which  had  now  degenerated  into 
theft.  He  did  not  interfere  with  the  management  of 
three  of  his  farms  which  were  leased  to  tenants,  nor  with 
those  whose  tenants  worked  for  his  profit,  of  which  he 
had  a  number ;  but  he  managed  six  farms  himself,  each 
of  about  two  hundred  acres,  and  he  now  published  a 
notice  that  it  was  forbidden,  under  pain  of  being  ar- 
rested and  made  to  pay  the  fine  imposed  bj*  the  courts, 
to  enter  those  fields  before  the  crop  was  carried  away. 
The  order  concerned  only  his  own  immediate  property. 
Rigou,  who  knew  the  country  well,  had  let  his  farm- 
lands in  portions  and  on  short  leases  to  men  who  knew 
how  to  get  in  their  own  crops,  and  who  paid  him  in 
grain  ;  therefore  gleaning  did  not  affect  him.  The  other 
proprietors  were  peasants,  and  no  nefarious  gleaning 
was  attempted  on  their  land. 

When  the  haiTest  began  the  count  went  himself  with 
Michaud  to  see  how  things  were  going  on.     Groison, 


Sons  of  the  Soil  381 

who  advised  him  to  do  this,  was  to  be  present  himself  at 
the  gleaning  of  each  particular  field.  The  inhabitants  of 
cities  can  have  no  idea  what  gleaning  is  to  the  inhabi- 
tants of  the  country  ;  the  passion  of  these  sons  of  the 
soil  for  it  seems  inexplicable ;  there  are  women  who 
will  give  up  well-paid  employments  to  glean.  The 
wheat  they  pick  up  seems  to  them  sweeter  than  any 
other  ;  and  the  provision  they  thus  make  for  their  chief 
and  most  substantial  food  has  to  them  an  extraordinary 
attraction.  Mothers  take  their  babes  and  their  little 
girls  and  boys  ;  the  feeblest  old  men  drag  themselves 
into  the  wheat-fields ;  and  even  those  who  own  prop- 
erty are  paupers  for  the  nonce.  All  gleaners  appear 
in  rags. 

The  count  and  Michaud  were  present  on  horseback 
when  the  first  tattered  batch  entered  the  first  fields 
from  which  the  wheat  had  been  carried.  It  was  ten 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  August  had  been  a  hot 
month,  the  sky  was  cloudless,  blue  as  a  periwinkle; 
the  earth  was  baked,  the  wheat  flamed,  the  harvestmen 
worked  with  their  faces  scorched  by  the  reflection  of 
the  8un-ra3'S  on  the  hard  and  arid  earth.  All  were 
silent,  their  shirts  wet  with  perspiration ;  while  from 
time  to  time,  they  slaked  their  thirst  with  water  from 
round,  earthenware  jugs,  furnished  with  two  handles 
and  a  mouth-piece  stoppered  with  a  willow  stick. 

At  the  farther  end  of  the  stubble-field  stood  the 
carts  which  contained  the  sheaves,  and  near  them  a 
group  of  at  least  a  hundred  beings  who  far  exceeded 
the  hideous  conceptions  of  Murillo  and  Teniers,  the 
boldest  painters  of  such  scenes,  or  of  Callot,  that  poet 
of  the  fantastic  in  poverty.  The  pictured  bronze  legs, 
the   bare  heads,    the    ragged  garments    so    curiously 


382  Sons  of  the  Soil 

faded,  so  damp  with  grease,  so  darned  and  spotted 
and  discolored,  in  short,  the  painters'  ideal  of  the 
naaterial  of  abject  poverty  was  far  surpassed  hy  this 
scene ;  while  the  expression  on  those  faces,  greedy, 
anxious,  doltish,  idiotic,  savage,  showed  the  everlast- 
ing advantage  which  nature  possesses  over  art  by  its 
comparison  with  the  immortal  compositions  of  those 
princes  of  color.  There  were  old  women  with  necks 
like  turkeys,  and  hairless,  scarlet  eyelids,  who  stretched 
their  heads  forward  like  setters  before  a  partridge ; 
there  were  children,  silent  as  soldiers  under  arms,  little 
girls  who  stamped  like  animals  waiting  for  their  food ; 
the  natures  of  childhood  and  old  age  were  crushed  be- 
neath the  fierceness  of  a  savage  greed,  — greed  for  the 
property  of  others  now  their  own  by  long  abuse.  All 
eyes  were  savage,  all  gestures  menacing ;  but  ever}^  one 
kept  silence  in  presence  of  the  count,  the  field-keeper, 
and  the  bailiff.  At  this  moment  all  classes  were  repre- 
sented, —  the  great  land-owners,  the  farmers,  the  work- 
ing men,  the  paupers ;  the  social  question  was  defined 
to  the  e3e ;  hunger  had  convoked  the  actors  in  the 
scene.  The  sun  threw  into  relief  the  hard  and  hollow 
features  of  those  faces ;  it  burned  the  bare  feet  dusty 
with  the  soil ;  children  were  present  with  no  clothing 
but  a  torn  blouse,  their  blond  hair  tangled  with  straw 
and  chips ;  some  women  brought  their  babes  just  able 
to  walk,  and  left  them  rolling  in  the  furrows. 

The  gloomy  scene  was  harrowing  to  the  old  soldier, 
whose  heart  was  kind,  and  he  said  to  Michaud :  "It 
pains  me  to  see  it.  One  must  know  the  importance  of 
these  measures  to  be  able  to  insist  upon  them." 

"  If  every  land-owner  followed  your  example,  lived 
on  his  propertj',  and  did  the  good  that  you  and  yours 


Sons  of  the  Soil  383 

are  doing,  general,  there  would  be,  I  won*t  say  no 
poor,  for  they  are  always  with  us,  but  no  poor  man 
who  could  not  live  by  his  labor." 

**  The  mayors  of  Conches,  Cerneux,  and  Soulanges 
have  sent  us  all  their  paupers,"  said  Groison,  who  had 
now  looked  at  the  certificates ;  **  they  had  no  right  to 
do  so." 

*'  No,  but  our  people  will  go  to  their  districts,"  said 
the  general.  ''For  the  time  being  we  have  done 
enough  by  preventing  the  gleaning  before  the  sheaves 
were  taken  away ;  we  had  better  go  step  bj'  step,"  he 
added,  turning  to  leave  the  field. 

"Did  you  hear  him?"  said  Mother  Tonsard  to  the 
old  Bonnebault  woman,  for  the  general's  last  words 
were  said  in  a  rather  louder  tone  than  the  rest,  and 
reached  the  ears  of  the  two  old  women  who  were  posted 
in  the  road  which  led  beside  the  field. 

"  Yes,  3'es  !  we  have  n't  got  to  the  end  3'et,  —  a  tooth 
to-day  and  to-morrow  an  ear  ;  if  they  could  find  a  sauce 
for  our  livers  they  'd  eat  'em  as  the}^  do  a  calf  s  !  "  said 
old  Bonnebault,  whose  threatening  face  was  turned  in 
profile  to  the  general  as  he  passed  her,  though  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  e3-e  she  changed  its  expression  to  one 
of  hypocritical  softness  and  submission  as  she  hastened 
to  make  him  a  profound  curtsey. 

"  So  3'ou  are  gleaning,  are  3'ou,  though  my  wife  helps 
you  to  earn  so  much  money?" 

\  "Hey!  m3' dear  gentleman,  ma3' God  preserve  3'ou 
in  good  health !  but,  don't  you  see,  m3'  grandson 
squanders  all  I  earn,  and  I  'm  forced  to  scratch  up  a 
little  wheat  to  get  bread  in  the  winter,  —  yes,  3'es,  I 
glean  just  a  bit;   it  all  helps." 

The  gleaning  proved  of  little  profit  to  the  gleaners. 


384  Sons  of  the  Soil 

The  farmers  and  tenant-farmers,  finding  themselves 
backed  up,  took  care  that  their  wheat  was  well  reaped, 
and  superintended  the  making  of  the  sheaves  and  their 
safe  removal,  so  that  little  or  none  of  the  pillage  of 
former  years  could  take  place. 

Accustomed  to  get  a  good  proportion  of  wheat  in 
their  gleaning,  the  false  as  well  as  the  true  poor,  for- 
getting the  count's  pardon  at  Conches,  now  felt  a  deep 
but  silent  anger  against  him,  which  was  aggravated  b}^ 
the  Tonsards,  Courtecuisse,  Bonn^bault,  Laroche,  Vau- 
do\'er,  Godain,  and  their  adherents.  Matters  went 
worse  still  after  the  vintage ;  for  the  gathering  of  the 
refuse  grape  was  not  allowed  until  Sibilet  had  exam- 
ined the  vines  with  extreme  care.  This  last  restriction 
exasperated  these  sons  of  the  soil  to  the  higiiest  pitch  ; 
but  when  so  great  a  social  distance  separates  the  an- 
gered class  from  the  threatened  class,  words  and  threats 
are  lost ;  nothing  comes  to  the  surface  or  is  perceived 
but  facts  ;  meantime  the  malcontents  work  underground 
like  moles. 

The  fair  of  Soulanges  took  place  as  usual  quite  peace- 
full3%  except  for  certain  jarrings  between  the  leading 
society  and  the  second-class  society  of  Soulanges, 
brought  about  by  the  despotism  of  the  queen,  who 
could  not  tolerate  the  empire  founded  and  established 
over  the  heart  of  the  brilliant  Lupin  by  the  beautiful 
Euphemie  Plissoud,  for  she  herself  laid  permanent  claim 
to  his  fickle  fervors. 

The  count  and  countess  did  not  appear  at  the  fair 
nor  at  the  Tivoli  fete ;  and  that,  again,  was  counted  a 
WTong  b}^  the  Soudr3's,  the  Gaubertins,  and  their  ad- 
herents ;  it  was  pride,  it  was  disdain,  said  the  Soudr}^ 
salon.     During  this  time  the  countess  was  filling  the 


Sons  of  the  Soil  385 

void  caused  by  Emile's  return  to  Paris  with  the  im- 
mense interest  and  pleasure  all  fine  souls  take  in  the 
good  they  are  doing,  or  think  they  do  ;  and  the  count, 
for  his  part,  applied  himself  no  less  zealousl}^  to  changes 
and  ameliorations  in  the  management  of  his  estate, 
which  he  expected  and  believed  would  modify  and 
benefit  the  condition  of  the  people  and  hence  their  char- 
acters. Madame  de  Montcornet,  assisted  by  the  advice 
:  and  experience  of  the  Abbe  Brossette,  came,  little  b}- 
little,  to  have  a  thorough  and  statistical  knowledge  of 
all  the  poor  families  of  the  district,  their  respective  con- 
dition, their  wants,  their  means  of  subsistence,  and  the 
sort  of  help  she  must  give  to  each  to  obtain  work  so 
as  not  to  make  them  lazy  or  idle. 

The  countess  had  placed  Genevieve  Niseron,  La 
Pechina,  in  a  convent  at  Auxerre,  under  pretext  of 
having  her  taught  to  sew  that  she  might  employ  her 
in  her  own  house,  but  really  to  save  her  from  the 
shameful  attempts  of  Nicolas  Tonsard,  whom  Rigou 
had  managed  to  save  from  the  conscription.  The  coun- 
tess also  believed  that  a  religious  education,  the  cloister, 
and  monastic  supervision,  would  subdue  the  ardent  pas- 
sions of  the  precocious  little  girl,  whose  Montenegrin 
blood  seemed  to  her  like  a  threatening  flame  which 
might  one  day  set  fire  to  the  domestic  happiness  of  her 
faithful  Olympe. 

So  all  was  peace  at  the  chateau  des  Aigues.  The 
count,  misled  by  Sibilet,  reassured  b}^  Michaud,  con- 
gratulated himself  on  his  firmness,  and  thanked  his 
wife  for  having  contributed  by  her  benevolence  to 
the  immense  comfort  of  their  tranquillit}'.  The  ques- 
tion of  the  sale  of  his  timber  was  laid  aside  till  he 
should  go  to  Paris  and  arrange  with  the  dealers.    He 

25 


386  Sons  of  the  Soil 

had  not  the  slightest  notion  of  how  to  do  business, 
and  he  was  in  total  ignorance  of  the  power  wielded 
by  Gaubertin  over  the  current  of  the  Yonne,  —  the 
main  line  of  conveyance  which  supplied  the  timber  of 
the  Paris  market 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  387 


VII. 

THE  GREYHOUND. 

Towards  the  middle  of  September  Emile  Blondet, 
who  had  gone  to  Paris  to  publish  a  book,  returned  to 
refresh  himself  at  Les  Aigues  and  to  think  over  the 
work  he  was  planning  for  the  winter.  At  Les  Aigues, 
the  loving  and  sincere  qualities  which  succeed  adoles- 
cence in  a  young  man's  soul  reappeared  in  the  used-up 
journalist. 

''  What  a  fine  soul !  "  was  the  comment  of  the  count 
and  the  countess  when  they  spoke  of  him. 

Men  who  are  accustomed  to  move  among  the  abysses 
of  social  nature,  to  understand  all  and  to  repress  noth- 
ing, make  themselves  an  oasis  in  the  heart,  where  they 
forget  their  perversities  and  those  of  others ;  they  be- 
come within  that  narrow  and  sacred  circle,  —  saints  ; 
there,  the}^  possess  the  delicacy  of  women,  they  give 
themselves  up  to  a  momentary  realization  of  their 
ideal,  they  become  angelic  for  some  one  being  who 
adores  them,  and  they  are  not  playing  corned}^ ;  they 
join  their  soul  to  innocence,  so  to  speak ;  they  feel 
the  need  to  brush  off  the  mud,  to  heal  their  sores,  to 
;  bathe  their  wounds.  At  Les  Aigues  Emile  Blondet 
was  without  bitterness,  without  sarcasm,  almost  with- 
out wit;  he  made  no  epigrams,  he  was  gentle  as  a 
lamb,  and  platonically  tender. 

*'  He  is  such  a  good  3'oung  fellow  that  I  miss  him 
terribly  when  he  is  not  here,"  said  the  general.     *'  I  do 


888  Sons  of  the  Soil, 

wish  he  could  make  a  fortune  and  not  lead  that  Paris 
life  of  his." 

Never  did  the  glorious  landscape  and  park  of  Les 
Aigues  seem  as  luxuriantly  beautiful  as  it  did  just  then. 
The  first  autumn  days  were  beginning,  when  the  eartli, 
languid  from  her  procreations  and  delivered  of  her  pro- 
ducts, exhales  the  delightful  odors  of  vegetation.  At  this 
time  the  woods,  especiallj^  are  delicious ;  the}^  begin  to 
take  the  russet  warmth  of  Sienna  earth,  and  the  green- 
bronze  tones  which  form  the  lovely  tapestry  beneath 
which  they  hide  from  the  cold  of  winter. 

Nature,  having  shown  herself  in  springtime  jaunty 
and  joj'ous  as  a  brunette  glowing  with  hope,  becomes 
in  autumn  sad  and  gentle  as  a  blonde  full  of  pensive 
memories  ;  the  turf  yellows,  the  last  flowers  unfold  their 
pale  corollas,  the  white-eyed  daisies  are  fewer  in  the 
grass,  onl}^  their  crimson  calices  are  seen.  Yellows 
abound  ;  the  shady  places  are  lighter  for  lack  of  leafage, 
but  darker  in  tone  ;  the  sun,  already  oblique,  slides  its 
furtive  orange  rays  athwart  them,  leaving  long  lumi- 
nous traces  which  rapidly  disappear,  like  the  train  of 
a  woman's  gown  as  she  bids  adieu. 

On  the  morning  of  the  second  day  after  his  arrival, 
Emile  was  at  a  window  of  his  bedroom,  which  opened 
upon  a  terrace  with  a  balustrade  from  which  a  noble 
view  could  be  seen.  This  balcony  ran  the  whole 
length  of  the  apartments  of  the  countess,  on  the  side  of 
the  chateau  towards  the  forests  and  the  Blangy  land- 
scape. The  pond,  which  would  have  been  called  a  lake 
were  Les  Aigues  nearer  Paris,  was  partly  in  view,  so 
was  the  long  canal ;  the  Silver-spring,  coming  from 
above  the  pavilion  of  the  Rendezvous,  crossed  the  lawn 
with  its  sheen}'  ribbon,  reflecting  the  yellow  sand. 


Sons  of  the  Soil  389 

Be3'ond  the  park,  between  the  village  and  the  walls, 
lay  the  cultivated  parts  of  Blangy,  —  meadows  where 
the  cows  were  grazing,  small  properties  surrounded  by 
hedges,  filled  with  fruit  of  all  kinds,  nut  and  apple 
trees.  By  way  of  frame,  the  heights  on  which  the 
noble  forest-trees  were  ranged,  tier  above  tier,  closed 
in  the  scene.  The  countess  had  come  out  in  her  slip- 
pers to  look  at  the  flowers  in  her  balcon}',  which  were 
sending  up  their  morning  fragrance ;  she  wore  a  cam- 
bric dressing-gown,  beneath  which  the  rosy  tints  of  her 
white  shoulders  could  be  seen ;  a  coquettish  little  cap 
was  placed  in  a  bewitching  manner  on  her  hair,  which 
escaped  it  recklessly  ;  her  little  feet  showed  their  warm 
flesh  color  through  the  transparent  stockings ;  the 
cambric  gown,  unconfined  at  the  waist,  floated  open  as 
the  breeze  took  it,  and  showed  an  embroidered  petticoat. 

''  Oh  !  are  you  there?  "  she  said. 

*'Yes." 

"  What  are  you  looking  at?" 

'*A  pretty  question!  You  have  torn  me  from  the 
contemplation  of  Nature.  Tell  me,  countess,  will  you 
go  for  a  walk  in  the  woods  this  morning  before  break- 
fast?" 

"What  an  idea!  You  know  I  have  a  horror  of 
walking." 

*'  We  will  only  walk  a  little  wa}' ;  I  '11  drive  3'ou  in 
the  tilbury  and  take  Joseph  to  hold  the  horses.  You 
have  never  once  set  foot  in  your  forest ;  and  I  have  just 
noticed  something  very  curious,  a  phenomenon  ;  there 
are  spots  where  the  tree-tops  are  of  the  color  of  Floren- 
tine bronze,  the  leaves  are  dried  —  " 

*' Well,  I'll  dress." 

**  Oh,  if  you  do,  we  can't  get  off  for  two  hours.    Take 


390  Sons  of  the  Soil 

a  shawl,  piit  on  a  bonnet,  and  boots  ;  that 's  all  you  want. 
I  shall  tell  them  to  harness." 

"  You  always  make  me  do  what  you  want;  I'll  be 
ready  in  a  minute." 

"  General,"  said  Blondet,  waking  the  count,  who 
grumbled  and  turned  over,  like  a  man  who  wants  his 
morning  sleep.  '^  We  are  going  for  a  drive  ;  won't  3'ou 
come  ?  " 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  the  tilbury  was  slowly  roll- 
ing along  the  park  avenue,  followed  by  a  liveried  groom 
on  horseback. 

The  morning  was  a  September  morning.  The  dark 
blue  of  the  skj'  burst  forth  here  and  there  from  the  gray 
of  the  clouds,  which  seemed  the  sky  itself,  the  ether  seem- 
ing to  be  the  accessor}^ ;  long  lines  of  ultramarine  lay 
upon  the  horizon,  but  in  strata,  which  alternated  with 
other  lines  like  sand-bars  ;  these  tones  changed  and 
grew  green  at  the  level  of  the  forests.  The  earth  be- 
neath this  overhanging  mantle  was  moistl}-  warm,  like 
a  woman  when  slie  rises ;  it  exhaled  sweet,  luscious 
odors,  which  yet  were  wild,  not  civilized, — the  scent 
of  cultivation  was  added  to  the  scents  of  the  woods. 
Just  then  the  Angelus  was  ringing  at  Blangy,  and 
the  sounds  of  the  bell,  mingling  with  the  wild  con- 
cert of  the  forest,  gave  harmou}^  to  the  silence.  Here 
and  there  were  rising  vapors,  white,  diaphanous. 

Seeing  these  lovely  preparations  of  Nature,  the  fancy 
bad  seized  Ol3'mpe  Michaud  to  accompan}^  her  husband, 
who  had  to  give  an  order  to  a  keeper  whose  house  was 
not  far  off.  The  Soulanges  doctor  advised  her  to  walk 
as  long  as  she  could  do  so  without  fatigue ;  she  was 
afraid  of  the  midda}^  heat  and  went  out  only  in  the 
early  morning  or  evening.     Michaud  now  took  her  with 


Sons  of  the 'Soil  391 

him,  and  they  were  followed  b}-  the  dog  he  loved  best, 
—  a  handsome  gre3iiound,  mouse-colored  with  white 
spots,  greedy,  like  all  greyhounds,  and  as  full  of  vices 
as  most  animals  who  know  the}^  are  loved  and  petted. 

So,  when  the  tilbury  reached  the  pavilion  of  the 
Rendezvous,  the  countess,  who  stopped  to  ask  how 
Madame  Michaud  felt,  was  told  she  had  gone  into  the 
forest  with  her  husband.  ' 

*'  Such  weather  inspires  ever3'body,"  said  Blondet, 
turning  his  horse  at  hazard  into  one  of  the  six  avenues 
of  the  forest;  ''Joseph,  you  know  the  woods,-^  don't 
you?" 

"  Yes,  monsieur." 

And  away  the}'  went.  The  avenue  they  took  hap- 
pened to  be  one  of  the  most  delightful  in  the  forest ;  it 
soon  turned  and  grew  narrower,  and  presently  became 
a  winding  way,  on  which  the  sunshine  flickered  through 
rifts  in  the  leafy  roof,  and  where  the  breeze  brought 
odors  of  lavender,  and  thyme,  and  the  wild  mint,  and 
that  of  falling  leaves,  which  sighed  as  the}'  fell.  Dew- 
drops  on  the  trees  and  on  the  grass  were  scattered  like 
seeds  bj^  the  passing  of  the  light  carriage ;  the  occu- 
pants as  they  rolled  along  caught  glimpses  of  the  mys- 
terious visions  of  the  woods,  —  those  cool  depths,  where 
the  verdure  is  moist  and  dark,  where  the  light  softens 
as  it  fades  ;  those  white-birch  glades  o'ertopped  b}-  some 
centennial  tree,  the  Hercules  of  the  forest ;  those  gloii- 
ous  assemblages  of  knotted,  mossy  trunks,  whitened  and 
furrowed,  and  the  banks  of  delicate  wild  plants  and  fra- 
gile flowers  which  grow  between  a  woodland  road  and 
the  forest.  The  brooks  sang.  Truly  there  is  a  name- 
less pleasure  in  driving  a  woman  along  the  ups  and 
downs  of  a  slippery  way  carpeted  with  moss,  where  she 


392  Sons  of  the  Soil 

pretends  to  be  afraid  or  really  is  so,  and  3'oa  are  con- 
scious that  she  is  drawing  closer  to  3'ou,  letting  you 
feel,  voluntarih'  or  involuntaril}',  the  cool  moisture  of 
her  arm,  the  weight  of  her  round,  white  shoulder,  though 
she  merely  smiles  when  told  that  she  hinders  you  in 
driving.  The  horse  seems  to  know  the  secret  of  these 
interruptions,  and  he  looks  about  him  from  right  to  left. 

It  was  a  new  sight  to  the  countess ;  this  nature  so 
vigorous  in  its  effects,  so  little  seen  and  yet  so  grand, 
threw  her  into  a  languid  revery  ;  she  leaned  back  in  the 
tilbury  and  yielded  lierself  up  to  the  pleasure  of  being 
there  with  Emile ;  her  eyes  were  charmed,  her  heart 
spoke,  she  answered  to  the  inward  voice  that  harmon- 
ized with  hers.  He,  too,  glanced  at  her  furtively  ;  he 
enjoyed  that  dream}'  meditation,  while  the  ribbons  of 
the  bonnet  floated  on  the  morning  breeze  with  the  silk}' 
curls  of  the  golden  hair.  In  consequence  of  going  they 
knew  not  where,  they  presently  came  to  a  locked  gate,  of 
which  they  had  not  the  key.  Joseph  was  called  up,  but 
neither  had  he  a  key. 

* '  Never  mind,  let  us  walk  ;  Joseph  can  take  care  of 
the  tilbury  ;  we  shall  easily  find  it  again." 

Emile  and  the  countess  plunged  into  the  forest,  and 
soon  reached  a  small  interior  cleared  space,  such  as  is 
often  met  with  in  the  woods.  Twenty  years  earlier  the 
charcoal-burners  had  made  it  their  kiln,  and  the  place 
still  remained  open,  quite  a  large  circumference  having 
been  burned  over.  But  during  those  twenty  years  Na- 
ture had  made  herself  a  garden  of  flowers,  a  blooming 
parterre  for  her  own  enjoyment,  just  as  an  artist  gives 
himself  the  delight  of  painting  a  picture  for  his  own  hap- 
piness. The  enchanting  spot  was  surrounded  by  fine 
trees,  whose  tops  hung  over  like  vast  fringes  and  made 


Sons  of  the  Soil  893 

a  dais  above  this  floweiy  couch  where  slept  the  goddess. 
The  charcoal-burners  had  followed  a  path  to  a  pond,  al- 
ways full  of  water.  The  path  is  there  still ;  it  invites 
30U  to  step  into  it  by  a  turn  full  of  mystery ;  then  sud- 
denly it  stops  short  and  you  come  upon  a  bank  where  a 
thousand  roots  run  down  to  the  water  and  make  a  sort 
of  canvas  in  the  air.  This  hidden  pond  has  a  narrow 
grassy  edge,  where  a  few  willows  and  poplars  lend  their 
fickle  shade  to  a  bank  of  turf  which  some  laz}'  or  pen- 
sive charcoal-burner  must  have  made  for  his  enjoyment. 
The  frogs  hop  about,  the  teal  bathe  in  the  pond,  the 
water-fowl  come  and  go,  a  hare  starts ;  you  are  the 
master  of  this  delicious  bath,  decorated  with  iris  and 
bulrushes.  Above  3'our  head  the  trees  take  many  at- 
titudes ;  here  the  trunks  twine  down  like  boa-constric- 
tors, there  the  beeches  stand  erect  as  a  Greek  column. 
The  snails  and  the  slugs  move  peacefully  about.  A 
tench  shows  its  gills,  a  squirrel  looks  at  3'ou  ;  and  at 
last,  after  ^Emile  and  the  countess,  tired  with  her  walk, 
were  seated,  a  bird,  but  I  know  not  what  bird  it  was, 
sang  its  autumn  song,  its  farewell  song,  to  which  the 
other  songsters  listened,  —  a  song  welcome  to  love,  and 
heard  b}'  every  organ  of  the  being. 

*'  What  silence ! "  said  the  countess,  with  emotion 
and  in  a  whisper,  as  if  not  to  trouble  this  deep  peace. 

They  looked  at  the  green  patches  on  the  water, — 
worlds  where  life  was  organizing ;  they  pointed  to  the 
lizard  playing  in  the  sun  and  escaping  at  their  ap- 
proach, —  behavior  which  has  won  him  the  title  of  '*  the 
friend  of  man."  *' Proving,  too,  how  well  he  knows 
him,"  said  Emile.  They  watched  the  frogs,  who,  less 
distrustful,  returned  to  the  surface  of  the  pond,  winking 
their  carbuncle  eyes  as  they  sat  upon  the  water- cresses^ 


394  Sons  of  the  Soil 

The  sweet  and  simple  poetry  of  Nature  permeated  these 
two  souls  surfeited  with  the  conventional  things  of 
life,  and  filled  them  with  contemplative  emotion.  Sud- 
denly Blondet  shuddered.  Turning  to  the  countess  he 
said,  — 

"  Did  you  hear  that  ?  " 

"What?"   she  asked. 

"A  curious  noise." 

"Ah,  you  literary  men  who  live  in  your  studies  and 
know  nothing  of  the  country !  that  is  only  a  wood- 
pecker tapping  a  tree.  I  dare  sa}-  you  don't  even  know 
the  most  curious  fact  in  the  history-  of  that  bird.  As 
soon  as  he  has  given  his  tap,  and  he  gives  millions  to 
pierce  an  oak,  he  flies  behind  the  tree  to  see  if  he  is 
yet  through  it ;  and  he  does  this  every  instant." 

*'  The  noise  I  heard,  dear  instructress  of  natural  his- 
tor3' ,  was  not  a  noise  made  by  an  animal ;  there  was 
evidence  of  mind  in  it,  and  that  proclaims  a  man." 

The  countess  was  seized  with  a  panic,  and  she  darted 
back  through  the  wild  flower-garden,  seeking  the  path 
by  which  to  leave  the  forest. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  cried  Blondet,  rushing  after 
her. 

"  I  thought  I  saw  ej-es,"  she  said,  when  they  re- 
gained the  path  through  which  they  had  reached  the 
charcoal-burner's  open. 

Just  then  they  heard  the  low  death-rattle  of  a  creat- 
ure whose  throat  was  suddenly  cut,  and  the  countess, 
with  her  fears  redoubled,  fled  so  quickly  that  Blondet 
could  scarcel}'  follow  her.  She  ran  like  a  will-o'-the- 
wisp,  and  did  not  listen  to  Blondet  who  called  to  her, 
"  You  are  mistaken."  On  she  ran,  and  Emile  with  her, 
till  the}'  suddenly  came  upon  Michaud  and  his  wife, 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  395 

who  were  walking  along  arm-in-arm.  Emile  was  pant- 
ing and  the  countess  out  of  breath,  and  it  was  some 
time  before  they  could  speak ;  then  they  explained. 
Michaud  joined  Blondet  in  laughing  at  the  countess's 
terror ;  then  the  bailiff  showed  the  two  wanderers  the 
way  to  find  the  tilbury.  When  they  reached  the  gate 
Madame  Michaud  called,  "  Prince  !  " 

'■''  Prince  !  Prince  !  "  called  the  bailiff;  then  he  whis- 
tled, —  but  no  greyhound. 

Emile  mentioned  the  curious  noise  that  began  their 
adventure. 

**  My  wife  heard  that  noise,"  said  Michaud,  "  and  I 
laughed  at  her." 

*'  They  have  killed  Prince  !  "  exclaimed  the  countess. 
"  I  am  sure  of  it ;  the}'  killed  him  b}^  cutting  his  throat 
at  one  blow.  What  I  heard  was  the  groan  of  a  dying 
animal." 

"  The  devil !  "  cried  Michaud  ;  "  the  matter  must  be 
cleared  up." 

Emile  and  the  bailiff  left  the  two  ladies  with  Joseph 
and  the  horses,  and  returned  to  the  wild  garden  of  the 
open.  They  went  down  the  bank  to  the  pond ;  looked 
everywhere  along  the  slope,  but  found  no  clue.  Blondet 
jumped  back  first,  and  as  he  did  so  he  saw,  in  a  thicket 
which  stood  on  higher  ground,  one  of  those  trees  he  had 
noticed  in  the  morning  with  withered  heads.  He  showed 
it  to  Michaud,  and  proposed  to  go  to  it.  The  two  sprang 
forward  in  a  straight  line  across  the  forest,  avoiding  the 
trunks  and  going  round  the  matted  tangles  of  brier  and 
holly  until  they  found  the  tree. 

''It  is  a  fine  elm,"  said  Michaud,  ''but  there's  a 
worm  in  it,  —  a  worm  which  gnaws  round  the  bark  close 
to  the  roots." 


396  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

He  stopped  and  took  up  a  bit  of  the  bark,  sa3'tng  : 
*'  See  bow  the}'  work." 

"You  have  a  great  maii}^  worms  in  this  forest," 
said  Blondet. 

Just  then  Michaud  noticed  a  red  spot ;  a  moment 
more  and  he  saw  the  head  of  his  gre3'hound.  He 
sighed. 

"  The  scoundrels  !  "  he  said.     "  Madame  was  right." 

Michaud  and  Blondet  examined  the  bod}'  and  found, 
just  as  the  countess  had  said,  that  some  one  had  cut  the 
gre3'hound's  throat.  To  prevent  his  barking  he  had 
been  decoyed  with  a  bit  of  meat,  which  was  still  be- 
tween his  tongue  and  his  palate. 

"  Poor  brute  ;  he  died  of  self-indulgence." 

"  Like  all  princes,"  said  Blondet. 

"  Some  one,  whoever  it  is,  has  just  gone,  fearing  that 
we  might  catch  him  or  her,"  said  Michaud.  "A  seriousf 
offence  has  been  committed.  But  for  all  that,  I  see  no 
branches  about  and  no  lopped  trees." 

Blondet  and  the  bailiff  began  a  cautious  search,  look- 
ing at  each  spot  where  they  set  their  feet  before  setting 
them.  Presently  Blondet  pointed  to  a  tree  beneath 
which  the  grass  was  flattened  down  and  two  hollows 
made. 

"  Some  one  knelt  there,  and  it  must  have  been  a 
woman,  for  a  man  would  not  have  left  such  a  quantity 
of  flattened  grass  around  the  impression  of  his  two 
knees  ;  3'es,  see  !  that  is  the  outline  of  a  petticoat." 

The  bailiff,  after  examining  the  base  of  the  tree,  found 
the  beginning  of  a  hole  beneath  the  bark  ;  but  he  did 
not  find  the  worm  with  the  tough  skin,  shiny  and  squa- 
mous, covered  with  brown  specks,  ending  in  a  tail  not 
unlike  that  of  a  cockchafer,  and  having  also  the  latter's 


Sons  of  the  Soil  397 

head,  antennae,  and  the  two  vigorous  hooks  or  shears 
with  which  the  creature  cuts  into  the  wood. 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  said  Blondet,  "  now  I  understand 
the  enormous  number  of  dead  trees  that  I  noticed  this 
morning  from  the  terrace  of  the  chateau,  and  which 
brought  me  here  to  find  out  the  cause  of  the  phenome- 
non. Worms  are  at  work  ;  but  they  are  no  other  than 
3'our  peasants. 

The  bailiff  gave  vent  to  an  oath  and  rushed  off,  fol- 
lowed by  Blondet,  to  rejoin  the  countess,  whom  he  re- 
quested to  take  his  wife  home  with  her.  Then  he 
jumped  on  Joseph's  horse,  leaving  the  man  to  return 
on  foot,  and  disappeared  with  great  rapidity  to  cut  off 
the  retreat  of  the  woman  who  had  killed  his  dog,  hop- 
ing to  catch  her  with  the  bloody  bill-hook  in  her  hand 
and  the  tool  used  to  make  the  incisions  in  the  bark  of 
the  tree. 

"  Let  us  go  and  tell  the  general  at  once,  before  he 
breakfasts,"  cried  the  countess;  *'he  might  die  of 
anger." 

**  I  *ll  prepare  him,"  said  Blondet. 

"  They  have  killed  the  dog,"  said  Olympe,  in  tears. 

*'  You  loved  the  poor  greyhound,  dear,  enough  to 
weep  for  him  ?"  said  the  countess. 

"  I  think  of  Prince  as  a  warning ;  I  fear  some  dan- 
ger to  my  husband." 

''How  the}'  have  ruined  this  beautiful  morning  for 
us,"  said  the  countess,  with  an  adorable  little  pout. 

*'  How  they  have  ruined  the  countr}^"  said  Olympe, 
gravely. 

They  met  the  general  near  the  chateau. 

*'  Where  have  you  been?"  he  asked. 

"  You  shall  know  in  a  minute,"  said  Blondet,  myste- 


398  jSons  of  the  Soil. 

riousl}^  as  he  helped  the  countess  and  Madame  Michaud 
to  alight.  A  moment  more  and  the  two  gentlemen  were 
alone  on  the  terrace  of  the  apartments. 

"You  have  plenty  of  moral  strength,  general;  3'ou 
won't  put  3"ourself  in  a  passion,  will  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  general ;  "  but  come  to  the  point  or 
I  shall  think  you  are  making  fun  of  me." 

"  Do  you  see  those  trees  with  dead  leaves?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Do  you  see  those  others  that  are  wilting? " 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  every  one  of  them  has  been  killed  by  the 
peasants  you  think  you  have  won  over  by  your  benefits." 

And  Blondet  related  the  events  of  the  morning. 

The  general  was  so  pale  that  Blondet  was  frightened. 

"Come,  curse,  swear,  be  furious!  your  self-control 
may  hurt  you  more  than  anger !  " 

"I'll  go  and  smoke,"  said  the  general,  turning 
toward  the  kiosk. 

During  breakfast  Michaud  came  in ;  he  had  found 
no  one.  Sibilet,  whom  the  count  had  sent  for,  came 
also. 

"Monsieur  Sibilet,  and  3'ou,  Monsieur  Michaud,  are 
to  make  it  known,  cautiousl}^  that  I  will  pay  a  thou- 
sand francs  to  whoever  will  arrest  in  the  act  the  person 
or  persons  who  are  killing  my  trees ;  the}^  must  also 
discover  the  instrument  with  which  the  work  is  done, 
and  where  it  was  bought.     I  have  settled  upon  a  plan." 

"  Those  people  never  betray  one  another,"  said  Sibi- 
let, "  if  the  crime  done  is  for  their  benefit  and  pre- 
meditated. There  is  no  denying  that  this  diabolical 
business  has  been  planned,  carefully  planned  and 
contrived.'' 


So7i8  of  the  Soil  399 

<*  Yes,  but  a  thousand  francs  means  a  couple  of  acres 
of  land." 

''  We  can  try,"  said  Sibilet ;  "  fifteen  hundred  francs 
might  buy  you  a  traitor,  especially  if  you  promise 
secrecy." 

''  Very  good ;  but  let  us  act  as  if  we  suspected 
nothing,  I  especially ;  if  not,  we  shall  be  the  victims 
of  some  collusion  ;  one  has  to  be  as  wary  with  these 
brigands  as  with  the  enemy  in  war." 

''  But  the  enemy  is  here,"  said  Blondet. 

Sibilet  threw  him  the  furtive  glance  of  a  man  who 
understood  the  meaning  of  the  words,  and  then  he 
withdrew. 

''  I  don't  like  3'our  Sibilet,"  said  Blondet,  when  he 
had  seen  the  steward  leave  the  house.  "That  man  is 
playing  false." 

*'  Up  to  this  time  he  has  done  nothing  I  could  com- 
plain of,"  said  the  general. 

Blondet  went  off  to  write  letters.  He  had  lost  the 
careless  gayet}-  of  his  first  arrival,  and  was  now  uneasy 
and  preoccupied ;  but  he  had  no  vague  presentiments 
like  those  of  Madame  Michaud ;  he  was,  rather,  in  full 
expectation  of  certain  foreseen  misfortunes.  He  said 
to  himself,  "This  affair  will  come  to  some  bad  end; 
and  if  the  general  does  not  take  decisive  action  and 
will  not  abandon  a  battle-field  where  he  is  overwhelmed 
by  numbers  there  must  be  a  catastrophe  ;  and  who  knows 
who  will  come  out  safe  and  sound,  —  perhaps  neither  he 
nor  his  wife.  Good  God  !  that  adorable  little  creature  ! 
so  devoted,  so  perfect!  how  can  he  expose  her  thus? 
He  thinks  he  loves  her!  Well,  I'll  share  their  danger, 
and  if  I  can't  sav^  them  I  '11  suffer  with  them." 


400  Sons  of  the  Soil 


VIII. 
RURAL   VIRTUE. 

That  night  Marie  Ton  sard  was  stationed  on  the  road 
to  Soulanges,  sitting  on  the  rail  of  a  culrert  waiting  for 
Bonnebault,  who  had  spent  the  day,  as  usual,  at  the 
Cafe  de  la  Paix.  She  heard  him  coming  at  some  dis- 
tance, and  his  step  told  her  that  he  was  drunk,  and  she 
knew  also  that  he  had  lost  money,  for  he  always  sang 
if  he  won. 

"  Is  that  you,  Bonnebault?  " 

"Yes,  my  girl." 

"What's  the  matter?" 

*'  I  owe  twenty- five  francs,  and  the}'^  may  wring  my 
neck  twent3'-five  times  before  I  can  pay  them." 

"  Well,  I  know  how  you  can  get  five  hundred,"  she 
said  in  his  ear. 

"Oh  !  by  killing  a  man  ;  but  I  prefer  to  live." 

"  Hold  your  tongue.  Vaudoyer  will  give  us  five 
hundred  francs  if  you  will  let  him  catch  your  mother  at 
a  tree." 

"  I  'd  rather  kill  a  man  than  sell  mj^  mother.  There  's 
your  old  grandmother  ;  why  don't  you  sell  her?  " 

"  If  I  tried  to,  my  father  would  get  angrj^  and  stop 
the  trick." 

"That's  true.  Well,  an3'how,  m}^  mother  sha'n't  go 
to  prison,  poor  old  thing !  She  cooks  my  food  and 
keeps  me  in  clothes,  I  'm  sure  I  don't  know  how.     Go 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  401 

to  prison, — and  through  me!  I  shouldn't  have  any 
bowels  within  me  ;  no,  no  !  And  for  fear  any  one  else 
should  sell  her,  I  '11  tell  her  this  very  night  not  to  kill 
any  more  trees." 

"  Well,  m}^  father  may  say  and  do  what  he  likes,  but 
I  shall  tell  him  there  are  five  hundred  francs  to  be  had, 
and  perhaps  he  '11  ask  mj'  grandmother  if  she  '11  earn 
them.  They  '11  never  put  an  old  woman  seventy-eight 
yesivs  of  age  in  prison,  —  though,  to  be  sure,  she'd  be 
better  off  there  than  in  her  garret." 

*'  Five  hundred  francs  !  well,  yes  ;  I  '11  speak  to  my 
mother,"  said  Bonnebault,  "  and  if  it  suits  her  to  give 
'em  to  me,  I  '11  let  her  have  part  to  take  to  prison. 
She  could  knit,  and  amuse  herself;  and  she'd  be  well 
fed  and  lodged,  and  have  less  trouble  than  she  has 
at  Conches.  Well,  to-morrow,  my  girl,  I'll  see  you 
about  it ;    I  have  n't  time  to  stop  now." 

The  next  morning  at  da3break  Bonnebault  and  his 
old  mother  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  Grand-I-Vert. 
Mother  Tonsard  was  the  onl}-  person  up. 

'*  Marie!"  called  Bonnebault,  *' that  matter  is 
settled." 

''  You  mean  about  the  trees?  "  said  Mother  Tonsard ; 
*'  3'es,  it  is  all  settled  ;  I  've  taken  it." 

**  Nonsense!"  cried  Mother  Bonnebault,  **  my  son 
has  got  the  promise  of  an  acre  of  land  from  Monsieur 
lligou  —  " 

The  two  old  women  squabbled  as  to  which  of  them 
should  be  sold  by  her  children.  The  noise  of  the  quar- 
rel woke  up  the  household.  Tonsard  and  Bonnebault 
took  sides  for  their  respective  mothers. 

'^  Pull  straws,"  suggested  Tonsard's  wife. 

The  short  straw  gave  it  in  favor  of  the  tavern. 
26 


402  Sons  of  the  Soil 

Three  daj^s  later,  in  the  forest  of  Ville-aux-Fayes  at 
daybreak,  the  gendarmes  arrested  old  Mother  Tonsard 
caught  in  flagrante  delicto  by  the  bailiff,  his  assistants, 
and  the  field-keeper,  with  a  rusty  file  which  served  to 
tear  the  tree,  and  a  chisel,  used  by  the  delinquent  to 
scoop  round  the  bark  just  as  the  insect  bores  its  way. 
The  indictment  stated  that  sixty  trees  thus  destroyed 
were  found  within  a  radius  of  five  hundred  feet.  The 
old  woman  was  sent  to  Auxerre,  the  case  coming  under 
the  jurisdiction  of  the  assize-court. 

Michaud  could  not  refrain  from  saying  when  he 
discovered  Mother  Tonsard  at  the  foot  of  the  tree : 
''  These  are  the  persons  on  whom  the  general  and 
Madame  la  coratesse  have  showered  benefits !  Faith, 
if  Madame  would  only  listen  to  me,  she  would  n't  give 
that  dowry  to  the  Tonsard  girl,  who  is  more  w'orthless 
than  her  grandmother." 

The  old  woman  raised  her  gray  eyes  and  darted  a 
venomous  look  at  Michaud.  When  the  count  learned 
who  the  guilty-  person  was,  he  forbade  his  wife  to  give 
the  money  to  Catherine  Tonsard. 

"  Monsieur  le  comte  is  perfectly  right,"  said  Sibilet. 
''  I  know  that  Godain  bought  that  land  three  da3's 
before  Catherine  came  to  speak  to  Madame.  She  is 
quite  capable,  that  girl,  of  pretending  she  is  with  child, 
to  get  the  monej' ;  verj'  likely  Godain  has  had  nothing 
to  do  with  it." 

''  What  a  community  !  "  said  Blondet ;  "the  scoun- 
drels of  Paris  are  saints  by  comparison." 

"  Ah,  monsieur,"  said  Sibilet,  "  self-interest  makes 
people  guilty  of  horrors  everywhere.  Do  you  know  who 
betrayed  the  old  woman  ?  " 

"  No." 


Sons  of  the  Soil  403 

*'  Her  granddaughter  Marie  ;  she  was  jealous  of  her 
sister's  marriage,  and  to  get  the  money  for  her  own  —  " 

**  It  is  awful!"  said  the  count.  *'Why!  they'd 
murder ! " 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Sibilet,  ''  for  a  very  small  sum.  They 
care  so  little  for  life,  those  people  ;  they  hate  to  have  to 
work  all  their  lives.  Ah  monsieur,  queer  things  happen 
in  country  places,  as  queer  as  those  of  Paris,  —  but  you 
will  never  believe  it." 

*'  Let  us  be  kind  and  benevolent,"  said  the  countess. 

The  evening  after  the  arrest  Bonnebault  came  to  the 
tavern  of  the  Grand- I-Vert,  where  all  the  Tonsard 
family  were  in  great  jubilation.  "  Oh  yes,  yes  !  "  said 
he,  "make  the  most  of  your  rejoicing;  but  I've  just 
heard  from  Vaudoyer  that  the  countess,  to  punish  you, 
withdraws  the  thousand  francs  promised  to  Godain  ;  her 
husband  won't  let  her  give  them." 

"  It's  that  villain  of  a  Michaud  that  has  put  him  up 
to  it,"  said  Tonsard.  "  My  mother  heard  him  say  he 
would ;  she  told  me  at  Ville-aux-Fayes  where  I  went  to 
carry  her  some  money  and  her  clothes.  Well ;  let  that 
countess  keep  her  money !  our  five  hundred  francs 
shall  help  Godain  buy  the  land ;  and  we  '11  revenge 
ourselves  for  this  thing.  Ha  !  Michaud  meddles  with 
our  private  matters,  does  he?  it  will  bring  him  more 
harm  than  good.  What  business  is  it  of  his,  I  'd  like 
to  know  ?  let  him  keep  to  the  woods  !  It 's  he  who  is 
at  the  bottom  of  all  this  trouble  —  he  found  the  clue 
tliat  day  my  mother  cut  the  throat  of  his  dog.  Suppose 
I  were  to  meddle  in  the  affairs  of  the  chateau  ?  Sup- 
pose I  were  to  tell  the  general  that  his  wife  is  off  walk- 
ing in  the  woods  before  he  is  up  in  the  morning,  with  a 
young  man." 


404  Sons  of  the  Soil, 

"  The  general,  the  general !  "  sneered  Courteculsse  ; 
"  they  can  do  wiiat  the}'  like  with  him.  But  it's  Mi- 
cliaud  who  stirs  him  up,  the  mischief-maker !  a  fellow 
who  don't  know  his  business ;  in  my  day,  things  went 
differently." 

"Ah!"  said  Tonsard,  "those  were  the  good  dajs 
for  all  of  us  —  weren't  the}',  Vaudoyer?'' 

"  Yes,"  said  the  latter,  "  and  the  fact  is  that  if  Mi- 
chaud  were  got  rid  of  we  should  be  left  in  peace." 

"Enough  said,"  replied  Tonsard.  "We'll  talk  of 
that  later  —  by  moonlight  —  in  the  open  field." 

Towards  the  end  of  October  the  countess  returned  to 
Paris,  leaving  the  general  at  Les  Aigues.  He  was  not 
to  rejoin  her  until  some  time  later,  but  she  did  not  wish 
to  lose  the  first  night  of  tlie  Italian  Opera,  and  moreover 
she  was  lonely  and  bored  ;  she  missed  Emile,  who  was 
recalled  by  his  avocations,  for  he  had  helped  her  to 
pass  the  hours  when  the  general  was  scouring  the 
countr}'  or  attending  to  business. 

November  was  a  true  winter  month,  gra}'  and  gloomy, 
a  mixture  of  snow  and  rain,  frost  and  thaw.  The  trial 
of  Mother  Tonsard  had  required  witnesses  at  Auxerre, 
and  Michaud  had  given  his  testimony.  Monsieur  Rigou 
had  interested  himself  for  the  old  woman,  and  emploj'ed 
a  lawyer  on  her  behalf  who  relied  in  his  defence  on  the 
absence  of  disinterested  witnesses ;  but  the  testimon}^ 
of  Michaud  and  his  assistants  and  the  field-keeper  was 
found  to  outweigh  this  objection.  Tonsard's  mother  was 
sentenced  to  five  years'  imprisonment,  and  the  lawyer 
said  to  her  son :  — 

"  It  was  Michaud's  testimony  which  got  her  that." 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  405 


IX. 

THE   CATASTROPHE. 

One  Saturday  evening,  Courtecuisse,  Bonn^bault, 
Godain,  Tonsard,  his  daughters,  wife,  and  Pere  Four- 
chon,  also  Vaudo3'er  and  several  mechanics  were  sup- 
ping at  the  tavern.  The  moon  was  at  half- full,  the 
first  snow  had  melted,  and  frost  had  just  stiffened  the 
ground  so  that  a  man's  step  left  no  traces.  They  were 
eating  a  stew  of  hare  caught  in  a  trap  ;  all  were  drink- 
ing and  laughing.  It  was  the  day  after  the  wedding  of 
Catherine  and  Godain,  and  the  wedded  pair  were  to  be 
conducted  to  their  new  home,  which  was  not  far  from 
that  of  Courtecuisse ;  for  when  Rigou  sold  an  acre  of 
land  it  was  sure  to  be  isolated  and  close  to  the  woods. 
Courtecuisse  and  Vaudo3'er  had  brought  their  guns  to 
accompan}'  the  bride.  The  neighborhood  was  other- 
wise fast  asleep  ;  not  a  light  was  to  be  seen  ;  none  but 
the  wedding  part}'  were  awake,  but  they,  made  noise 
enough.  In  the  midst  of  it  the  old  Bonu^bault  woman 
entered,  and  ever\'  one  looked  at  her. 

"I  think  she  is  going  to  lie-in,"  she  whispered  in 
Tonsard's  ear.  "  ITe  has  saddled  his  horse  and  is 
going  for  the  doctor  at  Soulanges." 

"  Sit  down,"  said  Tonsard,  giving  her  his  place  at 
the  table,  and  going  himself  to  lie  on  a  bench. 

Just  then  the  gallop  of  a  horse  passing  rapidly  along 
the  road  was  heard.     Tonsard,  Courtecuisse,  and  Vau- 


406  Sons  of  the  Soil 

doj'er  went  out  hurriedly,  and  saw  Michaud  on  his  way 
to  the  village. 

"  He  knows  what  he  's  about,"  said  Courtecuisse ; 
"  he  came  down  by  the  terrace  and  he  means  to  go  b}^ 
Blangy  and  the  road,  —  it's  the  safest  way." 

^'  Yes,"  said  Tonsard,  "  but  he  will  bring  the  doctor 
back  with  him." 

"  He  won't  find  him,"  said  Courtecuisse,  "  the  doctor 
has  been  sent  for  to  Conches  for  the  postmistress." 

''Then  he'll  go  from  Soulanges  to  Conches  by  the 
mail-road;  that's  shortest." 

"  And  safest  too, for  us,"  said  Courtecuisse,  "  there's 
a  fine  moon,  and  there  are  no  keepers  on  the  road  as 
there  are  in  the  woods ;  one  can  hear  much  farther ; 
and  down  there,  by  the  pavilions,  behind  the  hedges, 
just  where  they  join  the  little  wood,  one  can  aim  at 
a  man  from  behind,  like  a  rabbit,  at  five  hundred 
feet." 

"  It  will  be  half-past  eleven  before  he  comes  past 
there,"  said  Tonsard,  "  it  will  take  him  half  an  hour 
to  go  to  Soulanges  and  as  much  more  to  get  back,  — 
but  look  here !  suppose  Monsieur  Gourdon  were  on 
the  road?" 

''  Don't  trouble  about  that,"  said  Courtecuisse,  "  I'll 
stand  ten  minutes  away  from  you  to  the  right  on  the 
road  towards  Blangy,  and  Vaudoyer  will  be  ten  minutes 
away  on  your  left  towards  Conches  ;  if  anything  comes 
along,  the  mail,  or  the  gendarmes,  or  whatever  it  is, 
we'll  fire  a  shot  into  the  ground,  —  a  muffled  sound, 
you'll  know  it." 

"  But  suppose  I  miss  him?  "  said  Tonsard. 

"He's  right,"  said  Courtecuisse,  ''I'm  the  best 
shot ;   Vaudoyer,   I  '11  go  with   you ;   Bonnebault  may 


Sons  of  the  Soil  407 

watch  in  m}'  place ;  he  can  give  a  cry ;  that 's  easier 
heard  and  less  suspicious." 

All  three  returned  to  the  tavern  and  the  wedding 
festivities  went  on  ;  but  about  eleven  o'clock  Vaudojer, 
Courtecuisse,  Tonsard,  and  Bonnebault  went  out,  carry- 
ing their  guns,  though  none  of  the  women  took  any 
notice  of  them.  They  came  back  in  about  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour,  and  sat  drinking  till  past  one 
o'clock.  Tonsard's  girls  and  their  mother  and  the  old 
Bonnebault  woman  had  plied  the  miller,  the  mechanics, 
and  the  two  peasants,  as  well  as  Fourchon,  with  so 
much  drink  that  they  were  all  on  the  ground  and  snor- 
ing when  the  four  men  left  the  tavern  ;  on  their  return, 
the  sleepers  were  shaken  and  roused,  and  every  one 
seemed  to  them,  as  before,  in  his  place. 

While  this  orgy  was  going  on  Michaud's  household 
was  a  scene  of  mortal  anxiety.  Olympe  had  felt  false 
pains,  and  her  husband,  thinking  she  was  about  to  be 
delivered,  rode  off  instantly  in  haste  for  the  doctor. 
But  the  poor  woman's  pains  ceased  as  soon  as  slie 
realized  that  Michaud  was  gone ;  for  her  mind  was  so 
preoccupied  by  the  danger  her  husband  ran  at  that 
hour  of  the  night,  in  a  lawless  region  filled  with  de- 
termined foes,  that  the  anguish  of  her  soul  was  power- 
ful enough  to  deaden  and  momentarily  subdue  those  of 
the  body.  In  vain  her  servant-woman  declared  her 
fears  were  imaginar}^ ;  she  seemed  not  to  comprehend 
a  word  that  was  said  to  her,  and  sat  by  the  fire 
in  her  bed-chamber  listening  to  every  sound.  In  her 
terror,  which  increased  ever}'  moment,  she  had  the  man 
wakened,  meaning  to  give  him  some  order  which  still 
she  did  not  give.  At  last,  the  poor  woman  wandered 
up  and  down,  coming  and  going  in  feverish  agitation  ; 


408  Sons  of  the  Soil 

she  looked  out  of  all  the  windows  and  opened  them  in 
spite  of  the  cold  ;  then  she  went  downstairs  and  opened 
the  door  into  the  courtyard,  looking  out  and  listening. 
"Nothing!  nothing!"  she  said.  Then  she  went  up 
again  in  despair.  About  a  quarter  past  twelve,  she 
cried  out :  ' '  Here  he  is  !  I  hear  the  horse  !  "  Again  she 
went  down,  followed  by  the  man  who  went  to  open 
the  iron  gate  of  the  courtyard.  "  It  is  strange,"  she 
said,  "  that  he  should  return  by  the  Conches  woods  !  " 

As  she  spoke  she  stood  still,  horrorstruck,  motion- 
less, voiceless.  The  man^shared  her  terror,-*for,  in  the 
furious  gallop  of  the  horse,  the  clang  of  the  empty 
stirrups,  the  neigh  of  the  frightened  animal,  there  was 
something,  they  scared}-  knew  what,  of  unspeakable 
warning.  Soon,  too  soon  for  the  unhappy  wife,  the 
horse  reached  the  gate,  panting  and  sweating,  but 
alone  ;  he  had  broken  the  bridle,  no  doubt  b}^  entang- 
ling it.  Olympe  gazed  with  haggard  eyes  at  the  ser- 
vant as  he  opened  the  gate ;  she  saw  the  horse,  and 
then,  without  a  word,  she  ran  to  the  chateau  like  a  mad- 
woman ;  when  she  reached  it  she  fell  to  the  ground 
beneath  the  general's  windows  crying  out:  "Monsieur, 
the}^  have  murdered  him  !  " 

The  cr}^  was  so  terrible  it  awoke  the  count ;  he  rang 
violently,  bringing  the  whole  household  to  their  feet ; 
and  the  groans  of  Madame  Michaud,  who  as  she  lay  on 
the  ground,  gave  birth  to  a  child  that  died  in  being 
born,  brought  the  general  and  all  the  servants  about 
her.  They  raised  the  poor  dying  woman,  who  expired, 
saying  to  the  general :    "  They  have  murdered  him  !  " 

"Joseph!"  cried  the  count  to  his  valet,  "go  for 
the  doctor ;  there  may  yet  be  time  to  save  her.  No, 
better  bring  the  curate ;  the  poor  woman  is  dead,  and 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  409 

her  child  too.  M}^  God  !  mj  God  !  how  thankful  I  am 
that  my  wife  is  not  here.  And  you,"  he  said  to  the 
gardener,  ''  go  and  find  out  what  has  happened." 

"I  can  tell  you,"  said  the  pavilion  servant,  coming 
up,  "  Monsieur  Michaud's  horse  has  come  back  alone, 
the  reins  broken,  his  legs  bloody  ;  and  there  's  a  spot 
of  blood  on  the  saddle." 

"What  can  be  done  at  this  time  of  night?"  cried  the 
count.  "  Call  up  Groison,  send  for  the  keepers,  saddle 
the  horses  ;  we  '11  beat  the  country." 

By  daybreak,  eight  persons  —  the  count,  Groison,  the 
three  keepers,  and  two  gendarmes  sent  from  Soulanges 
with  their  sergeant  —  searched  the  countr}'.  It  was  not 
till  the  middle  of  the  morning  that  the}"  found  the  body 
of  the  bailiff  in  a  copse  between  the  mail-road  and  the 
smaller  road  leading  to  Ville-aux-Fayes,  at  the  end  of 
the  park  of  Les  Aigues,  not  far  from  Conches.  Two 
gendarmes  started,  one  to  Ville-aux-Fayes  for  the  pros- 
ecuting attorney,  the  other  to  Soulanges  for  the  justice 
of  the  peace.  Meantime  the  general,  assisted  b}'  the  ser- 
geant, noted  down  the  facts.  The}'  found  on  the  road, 
just  above  the  two  pavilions,  the  print  of  the  stamping 
of  the  horse's  feet  as  he  reared,  and  the  traces  of  his 
frightened  gallop  from  there  to  the  first  opening  into 
the  woods  above  the  hedge.  The  horse,  no  longer 
guided,  turned  into  the  wood-path.  Michaud's  hat  was 
found  there.  The  animal  evidently  took  the  nearest 
way  to  reach  his  stable.  The  bailiff  had  a  ball  through 
his  back  which  broke  the  spine. 

Groison  and  the  sergeant  studied  the  ground  around 
the  spot  where  the  horse  reared  (which  might  be 
called,  in  judicial  language,  the  theatre  of  the  crime) 
with  remarkable  sagacity,  but  without  obtaining  miy 


410  Sons  of  the  Soil 

clue.  The  earth  was  too  frozen  to  show  the  footprints 
of  the  murderer,  and  all  they  found  was  the  paper  of  a 
cartridge.  When  the  attorney  and  the  judge  and  Mon- 
sieur Gourdon,  the  doctor,  arrived  and  raised  the  body 
to  make  tlie  autops}^,  it  was  found  that  the  ball,  which 
corresponded  with  the  fragments  of  the  wad,  was  an  am- 
munition ball,  evidently  from  a  militarj'  musket ;  and  no 
such  musket  existed  in  the  district  of  Blangy.  The  judge 
and  Monsieur  Soudry  the  attorney,  who  came  that  even- 
ing to  the  chateau,  thought  it  best  to  collect  all  the  facts 
and  await  events.  The  same  opinion  was  expressed  b}" 
the  sergeant  and  the  lieutenant  of  the  gendarmerie. 

"It  is  impossible  that  it  can  be  anything  but  a 
planned  attack  on  the  part  of  the  peasants,"  said  the 
sergeant;  "but  there  are  two  districts,  Conches  and 
Blangy,  in  each  of  which  there  are  five  or  six  persons 
capable  of  being  concerned  in  the  murder.  The  one 
that  I  suspect  most,  Tonsard,  passed  the  night  carous- 
ing in  the  Grand-I-Vert ;  but  j'our  assistant,  general, 
the  miller  Langlume,  was  there,  and  he  says  that  Ton- 
sard  did  not  leave  the  tavern.  The}^  were  all  so  drunk 
the}^  could  not  stand ;  they  took  the  bride  home  at 
half-past  one ;  and  the  return  of  the  horse  proves 
that  Michaud  was  murdered  between  eleven  o'clock  and 
midnight.  At  a  quarter  past  ten  Groison  saw  the 
whole  compan}'  assembled  at  table,  and  Monsieur 
Michaud  passed  there  on  his  wa}^  to  Soulanges,  which 
he  reached  at  eleven.  His  horse  reared  between  the 
two  pavilions  on  the  mail-road  ;  but  he  ma}'  have  been 
shot  before  reaching  Blangy  and  yet  have  stayed  in  the 
saddle  for  some  little  time.  We  should  have  to  issue 
warrants  for  at  least  twentj^  persons  and  arrest  them  ; 
but  I  know  those  peasants,  and  so  do  these  gentlemen  ; 


Sons  of  the   Soil.  411 

you  might  keep  them  a  year  in  prison  and  you  would 
get  nothing  out  of  them  but  denials.  What  could  you 
do  with  all  those  who  were  at  Tonsard's  ?  " 

They  sent  for  Langlume,  the  miller,  and  the  assistant 
of  General  Montcornet  as  mayor ;  he  related  what  had 
taken  place  in  the  tavern,  and  gave  the  names  of  all 
present ;  none  had  gone  out  except  for  a  minute  or  two 
into  the  courtyard.  He  had  left  the  room  for  a  moment 
with  Tonsard  about  eleven  o'clock  ;  they  had  spoken  of 
the  moon  and  the  weather,  and  heard  nothing.  At  two 
o'clock  the  whole  party  had  taken  the  bride  and  bride- 
groom to  their  own  house. 

The  general  arranged  with  the  sergeant,  the  lieuten- 
ant, and  the  civil  authorities  to  send  to  Paris  for  the 
cleverest  detective  in  the  service  of  the  police,  who 
should  come  to  the  chat<3au  as  a  workman,  and  behave 
so  ill  as  to  be  dismissed ;  he  should  then  take  to  drink- 
ing and  frequent  the  Grand -I- Vert  and  remain  in  the 
neighborhood  in  the  character  of  an  ill-wisher  to  the 
general.  The  best  plan  the}"  could  follow  was  to  watch 
and  wait  for  a  momentary  revelation,  and  then  make 
the  most  of  it. 

"  If  I  have  to  spend  twenty  thousand  francs  I  '11  dis- 
cover the  murderer  of  mj^  poor  Michaud,"  the  general 
was  never  wear}-  of  saying. 

He  went  off  with  that  idea  in  his  head,  and  returned 
from  Paris  in  the  month  of  Januar}'  with  one  of  the 
shrewdest  satellites  of  the  chief  of  the  detective  police, 
who  was  brought  down  ostensibl}'  to  do  some  work  to 
the  interior  of  the  chateau.  The  man  was  discovered 
poaching.  He  was  arrested,  and  turned  off,  and  soon 
after  —  early  in  February  —  the  general  rejoined  his 
wife  in  Paris. 


412  Sons  of  the  Soil 


X. 

THE  TRIUMPH  OF  THE  VANQUISHED. 

One  evening  in  the  month  of  May,  when  the  fine 
weather  had  come  and  the  Parisians  had  returned  to 
Les  Aigues,  Monsieur  de  Troisville, — who  had  been 
persuaded  to  accompany  his  daughter,  —  Blondet,  the 
Abbe  Brossette,  the  general,  and  the  sub-prefect  of 
Ville-aux-Fayes,  who  was  on  a  visit  to  the  chateau, 
were  all  playing  either  whist  or  chess.  It  was  about 
half-past  eleven  o'clock  when  Joseph  entered  and  told 
his  master  that  the  worthless  poaching  workman  who 
had  been  dismissed  wanted  to  see  him,  —  something 
about  a  bill  which  he  said  the  general  still  owed  him. 
"He  is  very  drunk,"  added  Joseph. 

"  Ver}'  good,  I  '11  go  and  speak  to  him." 

The  general  went  out  upon  the  lawn  to  some  dis- 
tance from  the  house. 

"  Monsieur  le  comte,"  said  the  detective,  "  nothing 
will  ever  be  got  out  of  these  people.  All  that  I  have 
been  able  to  gather  is  that  if  you  continue  to  stay  in 
this  place  and  try  to  make  the  peasants  renounce  the 
pilfering  habits  which  Mademoiselle  Laguerre  allowed 
them  to  acquire,  the}'  will  shoot  you  as  well  as  your 
bailiff.  There  is  no  use  in  ray  staying  here ;  for  they 
distrust  me  even  more  than  the}^  do  the  keepers." 

The  count  paid  his  spy,  who  left  the  place  the  next 
day,  and  his  departure  justified  the   suspicions   enter- 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  413 

tained  about  him  by  the  accomplices  in  the  death  of 
Mich  and. 

When  the  general  returned  to  the  salon  there  were 
such  signs  of  emotion  upon  his  face  that  his  wife  asked 
him,  anxioush',  what  news  he  had  just  heard. 

"  Dear  wife,"  he  said,  ''  1  don't  want  to  frighten  you, 
and  j-et  it  is  right  jou  should  know  that  Micliaud's 
death  was  intended  as  a  warning  to  us  to  leave  this 
part  of  the  country." 

'*  If  I  were  in  your  place,"  said  Monsieur  de  Trois- 
ville,  "  I  would  not  leave  it.  I  myself  have  had  just  such 
difficulties  in  Normandy,  only  under  another  form  ;  I 
persisted  in  my  course,  and  now  everything  goes  well." 

**  Monsieur  le  marquis,"  said  the  sub-prefect,  '*  Nor- 
mand}'  and  Burgundy  are  two  very  different  regions. 
The  grape  heats  the  blood  far  more  than  the  apple. 
We  know  much  less  of  law  and  legal  proceedings ;  we 
live  among  the  woods ;  the  large  industries  are  un- 
known among  us ;  we  are  still  savages.  If  I  might 
give  my  advice  to  Monsieur  le  comte  it  would  be  to  sell 
this  estate  and  put  the  monej-  in  the  Funds ;  he  would 
double  his  income  and  have  no  anxieties.  If  he  likes 
living  in  the  countr}^  he  could  buy  a  chateau  near  Paris 
with  a  park  as  beautiful  as  that  of  Les  Aigues,  sur- 
rounded by  walls,  where  no  one  can  annoy  him,  and 
where  he  can  let  all  his  farms  and  receive  the  money 
in  good  bank-bills,  and  have  no  law  suits  from  one 
year's  end  to  another.  He  could  come  and  go  in  three 
or  four  hours,  and  Monsieur  Blondet  and  Monsieur 
le  marquis  would  not  be  so  often  away  from  you, 
Madame  la  comtesse." 

''I,  retreat  before  the  peasantry  when  I  did  not 
recoil  before  the  Danube ! "  cried  the  general. 


414  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

"  Yes,  but  what  became  of  your  cuirassiers?  "  asked 
Blonclet. 

"  Such  a  fine  estate  !  " 

"  It  will  sell  to-day  for  over  two  millions." 

"  The  chateau  alone  must  have  cost  that,"  remarked 
Monsieur  de  Troisville. 

"  One  of  the  best  properties  in  a  circumference  of 
sixty  miles,"  said  the  sub-prefect;  "  but  you  can  find  a 
better  near  Paris." 

''  How  much  income  does  one  get  from  two  mil- 
lions?" asked  the  countess. 

*'  Now-a-days,  about  eighty  thousand  francs,"  replied 
Blondet. 

''  Les  Aigues  does  not  bring  in,  all  told,  more  than 
thirty  thousand,"  said  the  countess;  "and  lately  you 
have  been  at  such  immense  expense,  —  you  have  sur- 
rounded the  woods  this  year  with  ditches. 

"  You  could  get,"  added  Blondet,  "  a  royal  chateau 
for  four  hundred  thousand  francs  near  Paris.  In  these 
days  people  buy  the  follies  of  others." 

"I  thought  you  cared  for  Les  Aigues!"  said  the 
count  to  his  wife. 

"  Don't  you  feel  that  I  care  a  thousand  times  more 
for  3'our  lite?"  she  replied.  "Besides,  ever  since  the 
death  of  my  poor  Olympe  and  Michaud's  murder  the 
country  is  odious  to  me ;  all  the  faces  I  meet  seem  to 
wear  a  treacherous  or  threatening  expression." 

The  next  evening  the  sub-prefect,  having  ended  his 
visit  at  the  chateau,  was  welcomed  in  the  salon  of  Mon- 
sieur Gaubertin  at  Ville-aux-Fayes  in  these  words  :  — 

"  Well,  Monsieur  des  Lupeaulx,  so  you  have  returned 
from  Les  Aigues?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  sub-prefect  with  a  little  air  of 


Sons  of  the  Soil.  415 

triumph  and  a  look  of  tender  regard  at  Mademoiselle 
Elise,  ''  and  I  am  ver}'  much  afraid  we  may  lose  the 
general ;  he  talks  of  selling  his  property  —  " 

''  Monsieur  Gaubertin,  1  speak  for  my  pavilion. 
I  can  no  longer  endure  the  noise,  the  dust  of  Ville-aux- 
Fayes ;  like  a  poor  imprisoned  bird  1  gasp  for  the  air 
of  the  fields,  the  woodland  breezes,"  said  Madame 
Isaure,  in  a  lackadaisical  voice,  with  her  eyes  half-closed 
and  her  head  bending  to  her  left  shoulder  as  she  played 
carelessly  with  the  long  curls  of  her  blond  hair. 

"  Pray  be  prudent,  madame ! "  said  her  husband  in 
a  low  voice;  "your  indiscretions  will  not  help  me  to 
buy  the  pavilion.  Then,  turning  to  the  sub-prefect, 
he  added,  "Haven't  they  yet  discovered  the  men  who 
were  concerned  in  the  murder  of  the  bailiff  ? " 

"  It  seems  not,"  replied  the  sub-prefect. 

"  That  will  injure  the  sale  of  Les  Aigues,"  said  Gau- 
bertin to  the  company  generall}",  "  I  know  verj'  well 
that  I  would  not  buy  the  place.  The  peasantrj'  over 
there  are  such  a  bad  set  of  people ;  even  in  the  days 
of  Mademoiselle  Laguerre  I  had  trouble  with  them,  and 
God  knows  she  let  them  do  as  they  liked." 

At  the  end  of  the  month  of  May  the  general  still 
gave  no  sign  that  he  intended  to  sell  Les  Aigues ;  in 
fact,  he  was  undecided.  One  night,  about  ten  o'clock, 
he  was  returning  from  the  forest  through  one  of  the  six 
avenues  that  led  to  the  pavihon  of  the  Rendezvous, 
lie  dismissed  the  keeper  who  accompanied  him,  as  he 
was  then  so  near  the  chateau.  At  a  turn  of  the  road 
a  man  armed  with  a  gun  came  from  behind  a  bush. 

"  General,"  he  said,  "  thiols  the  third  time  I  have 
had  3'ou  at  the  end  of  my  barrel,  and  the  third  time 
that  I  give  you  your  life." 


416  Sons  of  the  Soil. 

"  Wh}' do  you  want  to  kill  me,  Bonnebault?"  said 
the  general,  without  showing  the  least  emotion. 

"Faith,  if  I  don't,  somebody  else  will;  but  I,  3^ou 
see,  I  like  the  men  who  served  the  Emperor,  and  I 
can't  make  up  my  mind  to  shoot  j'ou  like  a  partridge. 
Don't  question  me,  for  I  '11  tell  3'ou  nothing  ;  but  3^ou  've 
got  enemies,  powerful  enemies,  cleverer  than  you,  and 
the\'  '11  end  b^-  crushing  j^ou.  I  am  to  have  a  thousand 
crowns  if  I  kill  you,  and  then  I  can  marr}'  Marie  Ton- 
sard.  Well,  give  me  enough  to  buy  a  few  acres  of  land 
and  a  bit  of  a  cottage,  and  I  '11  keep  on  sa3'ing,  as  I 
have  done,  that  I  've  found  no  chance.  That  will  give 
you  time  to  sell  your  propert}^  and  get  away ;  but  make 
haste.  I  'm  an  honest  lad  still,  scamp  as  I  am  ;  but 
another  fellow  won't  spare  you." 

"  If  I  give  you  what  you  ask,  will  3'ou  tell  me  who 
offered  3'ou  those  three  thousand  francs  ? "  said  the 
general. 

"  I  don't  know  myself;  and  the  person  who  is  urging 
me  to  do  the  thing  is  some  one  I  love  too  well  to  tell  of. 
Besides,  even  if  3'ou  did  know  it  was  Marie  Tonsard,  that 
would  n't  help  3'ou  ;  Marie  Tonsard  would  be  as  silent 
as  that  wall,  and  I  should  deny  ever3^  word  I've  said." 

'*  Come  and  see  me  to-morrow,"  said  the  general. 

"  Enough,"  replied  Bonnebault ;  "  and  if  they  begin 
to  say  I  'm  too  dilatory,  I  '11  let  you  know  in  time." 

A  week  after  that  singular  conversation  the  whole 
arrondissement,  indeed  the  whole  department,  was  cov- 
ered with  posters,  advertising  the  sale  of  Les  Aigues  at 
the  office  of  Maitre  Corbineau,  the  notar3'  of  Soulanges. 
All  the  lots  were  knocked  down  to  Rigou,  and  the  price 
paid  amounted  to  two  millions  five  hundred  thousand 
francs.     The  next  day  Rigou  had  the  names  changed  ; 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  417 

Monsieur  Gaubcrtin  took  the  woods,  Rigou  and  Soudry 
the  vineyards  and  the  farms.  The  chateau  and  park 
were  sold  over  again  in  small  lots  among  the  sons  of 
the  soil,  the  peasantr}',  —  excepting  the  pavilion,  its  de- 
pendencies, and  fifty  surrounding  acres,  which  Monsieur 
Gaubertin  retained  as  a  gift  to  his  poetic  and  sentimen- 
tal spouse. 

Many  years  after  these  events,  during  the  year  1837, 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  political  writers  of  the  day, 
Emile  Blondet,  reached  the  last  stages  of  a  poverty 
which  he  had  so  far  hidden  beneath  an  outward  appear- 
ance of  ease  and  elegance.  He  was  thinking  of  taking 
some  desperate  step,  realizing,  as  he  did,  that  his  writ- 
ings, his  mind,  his  knowledge,  his  ability  for  the  direc- 
tion of  affairs,  had  made  him  nothing  better  than  a  mere 
functionary,  mechanically  serving  the  ends  of  others ; 
seeing  that  every  avenue  was  closed  to  him  and  all 
places  taken ;  feeling  that  he  had  reached  middle-life 
without  fame  and  without  fortune ;  that  fools  and 
middle-class  men  of  no  training  had  taken  the  places 
of  the  courtiers  and  incapables  of  the  Restoration,  and 
that  the  government  was  reconstituted  such  as  it  was 
before  1830.  One  evening,  when  he  had  come  very 
near  committing  suicide  (a  folly  he  had  so  often  laughed 
at),  while  his  mind  travelled  back  over  his  miserable 
existence  calumniated  and  worn  down  with  toil  far 
more  than  with  the  dissipations  charged  against  him, 
the  noble  and  beautiful  face  of  a  woman  rose  before 
his  e3^es,  like  a  statue  rising  pure  and  unbroken  amid 
the  saddest  ruins.  Just  then  the  porter  brought  him 
a  letter  sealed  with  black  from  the  Comtcsse  de  Mont- 
cornet,  teUing  him  of  thd  death  of  her  husband,  who 

27 


418  (Sons  of  the  Soil, 

had  again  taken  service  in  the  army  and  commanded  a 
division.  The  count  had  left  her  his  property,  and  she 
had  no  children.  The  letter,  though  dignified,  showed 
Blondet  verj^  plainly  that  the  woman  of  forty  whom  he 
had  loved  in  his  youth  offered  him  a  friendly  hand  and 
a  large  fortune. 

A  few  days  ago  the  marriage  of  the  Comtesse  de 
Montcornet  with  Monsieur  Blondet,  appointed  prefect 
in  one  of  the  departments,  was  celebrated  in  Paris.  On 
their  way  to  take  possession  of  the  prefecture,  they  fol- 
lowed the  road  which  led  past  what  had  formerly  been 
Les  Aigues.  They  stopped  the  carriage  near  the  spot 
where  the  two  pavilions  had  once  stood,  wishing  to  see 
"the  places  so  full  of  tender  memories  for  each.  The 
country  was  no  longer  recognizable.  The  m3'sterious 
woods,  the  park  avenues,  all  were  cleared  away ;  the 
landscape  looked  like  a  tailor's  pattern-card.  The  sons 
of  the  soil  had  taken  possession  of  the  earth  as  victors 
and  conquerors.  It  was  cut  up  into  a  thousand  little 
lots,  and  the  population  had  tripled  between  Conches 
and  Blangy.  The  levelling  and  cultivation  of  the  noble 
park,  once  so  carefully  tended,  so  delightful  in  its  beautj'^, 
threw  into  isolated  relief  the  pavilion  of  the  Rendez- 
vous, now  the  Villa  Buen-Retiro  of  Madame  Isaure 
Gaubertin  ;  it  was  the  only  building  left  standing,  and 
it  commanded  the  whole  landscape,  or  as  we  might 
better  call  it,  the  stretch  of  cornfields  which  now  con- 
stituted the  landscape.  The  building  seemed  magnified 
into  a  chateau,  so  miserable  were  the  little  houses  which 
the  peasants  had  built  around  it. 

"  This  is  progress  !  "  cried  Emile.  "  It  is  a  page  out 
of  Jean-Jacques'  *  Social  Compact !  *  and  I  —  I  am 
harnessed  to  the  social  machine  that  works  it !     Good 


Sons  of  the  Soil,  419 

God !  what  will  the  kings  be  soon  ?  More  than  that, 
what  will  the  nations  themselves  be  fifty  years  hence 
under  this  state  of  things  ?  '* 

*'  But  you  love  me  ;  you  are  beside  me.  I  think  the 
present  deliglitful.  What  do  I  care  for  such  a  distant 
future?"  said  his  wife. 

''Oh  yes!  by  your  side,  hurrah  for  the  present!" 
cried  the  lover,  gayly,  ''  and  tlie  devil  take  the  future." 

Then  he  signed  to  the  coachman,  and  as  the  horses 
sprang  forward  along  the  road,  the  wedded  pair  re- 
turned to  the  enjoyment  of  their  honeymoon. 


1845. 


,f   THE  ' 

ERSITl 


THE   END. 


p^ 


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